


Castling

by Applesaday, NikiFrost



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Collaboration, Eventual Romance, F/F, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, The Enchanted Forest, Time Travel Fix-It, knight!emma, prostitute!Regina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applesaday/pseuds/Applesaday, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikiFrost/pseuds/NikiFrost
Summary: Magic always comes with a price, and Regina bears the weight of hers when she resigns herself to a life of prostitution under Rumplestiltskin's ownership. Enter noble knight Emma Swan, who spends their paid nights together playing chess and chatting over dinner, boggling Regina with her offer of friendship. With too many secrets at stake, Regina can't risk trusting anyone with the truth, but Emma is determined to help her save herself.(Even-numbered chapters are written by Applesaday, odd-numbered chapters are written by NikiFrost, and the first and last chapter of the fic are half written by each author. The storyline and plot points was a fun collaborative effort, and this original story is solely based on RedDove's beautiful artwork for the 2018 SwanQueen Supernova!)





	1. The Night Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedDove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDove/gifts).
  * Inspired by ["And we meet at night, and we meet in secret..." [ Art ]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812151) by [RedDove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDove/pseuds/RedDove). 



> NikiFrost: In honor of RedDove's beautiful art piece for this year's Supernova, Applesaday and I decided to team up and do a secret collaborative fic based on their art! Your work is wonderful all on its own, Dove; don't ever let someone else's failure bring you down. We hope this collab fic is a fun surprise, dearest! Never stop creating! ♥
> 
> Applesaday: I loved getting to be your cheerleader, seeing how your art was taking shape and cheering you on; I was so so bummed for you when you found out what had happened with the fic you had been basing this art on. So NikiFrost and I decided to make things right and hopefully make your day with this surprise fic. You are super talented Pal, and your art is inspiring and all around amazing. We hope you enjoy this!

There’s merry music playing all around the tavern, drinks are flowing freely, and there’s conversation a-plenty. It’s a fairly quiet night for the town’s most popular watering hole, by any standard, but the Drunk Frog is always open and everyone knows the best mead is there, with a warm bed waiting for them once the night is over.

At a table near the corner, four friends are seated together enjoying their drinks, until someone approaches them.

“Lads! I have just scored us a night of excellent debauchery.”

Emma glares up at the man who spoke and clears her throat.

“Er, and lass,” he corrects himself.

“And what does this debauchery entail of, Neal?” says another man, August, scratching at his beard.

“I’m glad you asked!” Neal grabs the only empty chair and spins it so it’s backwards, and sits down on it, resting his arms on the backrest. Then he beckons for all of his friends to move closer, as if he is about to impart on some big secret.

Everyone goes along with it, wherein he grins and whispers, “I got us all quality prostitutes for the night!”

The rest of the men grow excited, clapping and thumping their flagons of mead on the table.

Emma chuckles. “Quality? I’ll reserve judgment until tomorrow.”

Neal rolls his eyes. “Come now, don’t be such a prude Swan. I don’t know why you pretend to be so private about your sex life. Have fun for once in your life!”

He grabs a key from a pouch on his belt, and holds it out to her. “Either you go willingly, or I will literally drag you there.”

“Oh really? Last I recall, I beat your ass during our last jousting match. Or rather, every single jousting match. So how are you planning on managing that feat?”

Lancelot chortles. “She has you there man.”

Neal’s ears flush red as he frowns. “Oh shut it! Now take it, Swan.”

“If she won’t, I certainly will.” Phillip, the last member of their party, reaches forward to grab the key, but Neal closes his hand around the key and moves it away from the other man’s grasp.

“Nope, this is for her. I’ve been assured that this one is an excellent model, and I feel like our dear friend here deserves it.”

Emma rolls her eyes and grabs the key, much to the excited hollering of her friends. She rolls her eyes and stands up, eyeing the number on the key before heading upstairs to the rooms.

 

When Emma gets to the room, it’s empty, but it doesn’t bother her the slightest. She’s quite nervous. She’s not sure what to expect.

She is typically adverse to such things as prostitutes, she would much rather share an emotional bond with someone before having sex with them. but as she is a knight, and she spends much of her life patrolling the kingdom, a relationship is far from her mind.

As she makes her way around the room, she looks around the sparse furnishings and decides she’ll enjoy tonight.

When the door opens, Emma is stunned by the beautiful brunette that waltzes in. Emma feels her mouth dry up as she inadvertently ogles the woman in front of her.

She’s not wearing much, just a dark purple negligee that barely goes to her thighs, tied closed with a sash around her waist. She looks soft with her dark hair that brushes shoulders framing her face.

Emma beckons her further in. And then she realizes she doesn’t really know what to say. So she does what she does best, says the first stupid thing that comes to her mind. “You’re the prostitute?”

The woman raises one eyebrow in perfect disbelief as she dryly responds, “No, I am the robber come to take all your jewelry. What do you think?”

With a chuckle, Emma rubs the back of her neck in embarrassment. “Okay, fair enough. I’m just nervous.”

Suddenly finding herself flushed, she goes to the window and opens it. She then clears her throat and holds out her hand. “I’m Emma.”

The brunette had been watching the woman in front of her in a mix of curiosity and fascination. Her tunic and vest colours seem to indicate she’s a knight in the kingdom’s army, but she seems much too flustered to be seasoned. So she just goes along with it, figuring she’ll have to coach the night along, much to her chagrin, and places her hand on top of Emma’s. “Regina.”

Emma grins and brings Regina’s hand up to her lips, keeping eye contact with her. “Pleasure.”

Regina feels her cheeks redden the slightest bit, and she clears her throat and reclaims her hand a bit hurriedly, trying to get her body to stay collected. She stands in front of the bed and begins untying the sash. “So, where would you like me?”

“Actually!” Emma rushes to place her hands on Regina’s shoulders. ”I was thinking we could just spend a quiet night in?”

“What?” Regina isn’t sure if this is meant to be some sort of peculiar charade that she’s supposed to be cluing in on.

Emma gestures for her to sit down on the edge of the bed, while she goes and fetches a chair from the other side of the room and drags it over so she can sit in front of her. “I know this is unusual, but I’m not interested in having sex with you.”

At that, Regina can barely hide the disappointment in her eyes. This Emma is certainly beautiful, and having sex with her would’ve been much more pleasant than most of her past clients. “Ah, so you’re only attracted to the opposite sex?”

“No! Actually, you would be just my type, and you are gorgeous and it’s definitely an enticing offer, but tonight, I’m just bone-tired, and I’d much rather do something calmer.”

“Calmer? Like what?”

Emma jerks her thumb towards the table. “I actually found a chess set in this room and—”

“Chess!?” Regina jumps up and clenches her fist. “Surely you’re joking?”

“Not at all,” Emma says, staying seated.

Regina huffs. “I have dozens of clients clamoring to have a night with me, and you somehow get a shortcut to me tonight, and you want... to play chess!?”

“Yes,” Emma confirms. “Do you know how to play?”

“Do— of course I do! This is just preposterous!”

“Look, if you wish to leave, you can definitely do that,” Emma says. “I won’t say anything bad. I just figured that perhaps, you too could use a quiet night?”

Truth be told, a night where she doesn't need to have sex and please sounds like a heaven-send. But... she has lived long enough to not take anything at face value. This woman might still be trying to pull a fast one on her. “Just chess?”

Emma nods.

“Very well. But be prepared to lose.”

At that, Emma grins triumphantly and gets off the chair so she can drag it back to the table where the pieces are already set up. They are made of wood, paint chipping off from plenty of use. The surface of the table is the actual board, and they can barely see the quadrants, but both women just settle down behind their side, Emma with the white pieces, and Regina with the dark.

“May the best player win,” Emma says, moving her pawn two spaces forward.

 

Regina’s not sure how many rounds they’ve played, but she’s enjoying herself too much to count. But clearly, Emma is counting.

“Ha! Checkmate!” Emma triumphantly grins. “After 7 wins, your reign has ended!”

“Reign?” the way that Regina asks that makes Emma think there’s a story behind it, but she brushes it off.

“It’s just a saying, nothing more. So, how long have you been working as a prostitute?”

The entire night Emma has tried to coax information from Regina. Regina doesn’t really give much away, but somehow, Emma doesn’t mind, and when Regina asks, she is more than willing to answer. “A while. Has your tenure as a knight been difficult?”

Emma shrugs. “It’s a mix. Some days it’s just a simple patrol, but I’ve been in my share of bloody fights.”

As if proving her point, as Regina is resetting up the board, Emma rolls up her left shirt sleeve. “Got this one a few years ago, some asshole nearly stabbed my arm.”

Regina looks at the nasty scar on her bicep and winces. “That looks painful.”

Emma shrugs. “It’s not as bad as this one,” she hikes up her vest and tunic to display a scar going across her abdomen. “This one had terrible eyesight thankfully.”

It makes Regina pang with sadness. “I know it’s a tough life you lead, but I’m impressed with your perseverance. Now, I believe it’s your turn?”

Emma is starting to wonder who exactly this woman is, with the cryptic answers and world-weary information she provides. She tries to look deep into the brown eyes staring at her just as intensely, but no answers are provided.

They play for a few more rounds, allowing Emma to rack up two wins compared to Regina’s twelve.

Eventually, Regina looks up at the clock and sighs. “I believe our time is up.”

Emma pouts. “I can’t convince you to stay for a while more?”

Regina lets out such a playful laugh that it makes Emma grin like a fool, and wish she could make Regina laugh again.

“Alas, I have a busy day tomorrow, and you must rest. From what you told me, you don’t get much sleep on missions, and I won’t have one of our kingdom’s finest get injured just because she didn’t get enough sleep wanting to keep playing chess with me well into the night.”

Now it’s Emma’s turn to laugh, and once they clear the table, she follows Regina to the door and falters opening the door.

“I hope to see you again?”

It’s said more as a question, a hopeful statement.

Regina smiles. “I hope so too.”

 

The tavern is quiet and empty in the morning, bright with pale sunlight and smelling of soap and damp wood as the workers lazily wash away spilled alcohol from the night before from tabletops and grungy floors. Neal is somehow awake, seated at the bar and nursing a flagon of some foul smelling concoction—no doubt for hangovers—while slowly spooning soup into his mouth. The moment Emma staggers downstairs with sleep still in her eyes, he brightens, perking up and grinning a shit-eating grin at her.

“Swan! How was your gift? Did you like it?”

“Good morning to you too,” Emma grunts, rubbing at her eyes and motioning at the barmaid to bring her breakfast. Slumping down onto a chair next to Neal, she glances at his smug look and sighs. He’s not about to be dissuaded, but she doesn’t intend on telling him how her night really went, either. “It was… fine.”

“Fine? Just fine?” He leans in, lowering his voice as to not scandalize the cook squinting at them from the kitchen doorway. “Come now, I need details! I always tell you about mine, don't I?"

"I'd rather you didn't—"

"Mine was flexible, very limber. You wouldn't believe the positions we tried last night—"

"Dear god, stop!"

"Then tell me about yours! Was she good? Did she please you?”

His brows wiggle suggestively and Emma turns beet red with embarrassment. “She was…” She clears her throat, choosing her words carefully and thinking back to their many rounds of chess. “Skillful. Confident. At times aggressive—"

“Aggressive!” Neal gapes.

“Oh, yes. She was glorious.”

“You scoundrel, I’d have never thought.”

Emma’s cheeks burn with a furious blush, but she can’t help but goad his imagination, watching the impressed glee in his eyes as he grins at her like a proud older brother.

“An excellent night of debauchery indeed, then,” he says, smirking, and Emma shrugs nonchalantly, busying herself with the breakfast delivered in front of her.

“It was an enjoyable night. Thank you, Neal.”

“Anything for you, Swan,” and he thumps her on the back and they say no more on the matter.

 

Regina’s room at the brothel has been a source of relief for her these past few years, a place to hide away once she’s done her job, but last night had been the first in a long time in which she’d entered the tiny space with dismay. She had actually _enjoyed_ her night with Emma and hadn’t wanted it to end. Returning to her room reminded her of what would never be. No friends, no freedom, no happiness.

Her desire for even a quiet morning to herself is ruined when one of Rumple’s thugs pounds a fist against her door, barking that the imp himself wants to speak to her. Biting back her annoyance, she dresses, splashes the sleep from her face in the cramped, shared bathing room, and grudgingly trudges into Rumplestiltskin’s office a short while later, her spine stiff and expression cool.

“You asked for me?” she says flatly, getting straight to the point. Rumplestiltskin smiles a crocodile grin, fingers steepled together as he considers her from behind his large oak desk.

“I want to hear about last night.” At the flash of confusion in her dark eyes, he waves his hand dismissively. He usually never asks for details from the prostitutes, and so he allows her an explanation. “My son, Neal, he wished to treat his friend, and I promised they would not be disappointed. I assume you pleasured her sufficiently?”

Gritting her teeth and refusing to let her cheeks burn with shame, Regina clears her throat. “She was perfectly happy when I left her.”

“Happy enough to pay for you again?” he questions, arching a brow. A prostitute is only as good as the money they bring in, and he's not known for being kind to the women he owns. Regina thinks back to the previous night, the easy kindness that Emma showed her and the warm twinkle in those green eyes that had been unfairly pretty, and she hopes that her next words prove true.

“I'm sure she’ll ask for me again.”

 

Emma’s team is sent on a patrol the very next day, one that takes them along towns and villages along the northern border for nearly two weeks. Graham pushes them at a hard pace, never one to be lazy, and most of the time she can work and sweat and think of little else but the rhythm of her horse’s trot or the occasional clash of steel when they get into skirmishes with bandits. But some nights, when it’s quiet and the others are asleep and she’s left to her thoughts, she wonders how a certain beautiful brown-eyed brunette is doing, hoping that she’s alright. She’s not ignorant; she knows the life of a prostitute isn’t a great one. But she hopes nonetheless.

“What has you looking all long-faced?” Neal asks one night, having woken from slumber after a particularly loud owl hoot echoed above their campsite. He’s splayed out on his sleeping roll, hair a mess and his eyes sleepy, but forces himself up to his elbows to check on his best friend regardless. Emma smiles wryly across the fire-pit at him, still sitting against a tree trunk where he’d seen her hours before.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

He blinks, squinting momentarily, then sits up with a grunt. “You’ve been quiet since we left the capitol. Come now, tell me what’s on your mind.”

Regarding her friend with vague amusement, Emma shakes her head and chuckles softly. Neal always knows her best, even if she doesn’t always like that fact.

“I’m sure you already know. Let it be, Neal.”

At that, he grins. “Ah, so I’m right. It’s the woman we bought for you. You want her again, don’t you?”

It’s crass, really, the way prostitutes are treated like possessions, but she is used to being around men all her life—hell, they have always treated her like “one of the men"—and she’s not going to start a fight with her best friend over a bit of inappropriate conversation.

“I enjoyed my time with her,” is all she says, shrugging slightly and pulling her cloak a little firmer around herself as a night breeze blows past them. Neal runs a hand through his curly locks and laughs, flopping back down onto his bedroll and snuggling into his blanket.

“Good. You rarely allow yourself to indulge in anything. You know, the owner - the man who got us prostitutes that night? He’s my father. I can put in a word for you, if you want that same woman again. Just let me know.”

Across the campsite, Emma blushes fiercely at the thought, but Neal’s eyes are already drooping shut.

“I don’t know,” she mutters, embarrassed. “Maybe.”

He chuckles, the sound petering off into a soft snore as Emma stares into the flames, contemplative.

 

It takes them another week to return to the capitol.

Most of the team disperse to seek out their own friends, families, or pleasures. Neal doesn’t give Emma a chance to sneak away before he’s dragging her to the nearest tavern, insisting on drinks and dinner. It happens to be the same tavern they’d stayed at the last time they were here, and when he catches her glancing up every time a patron stumbles their way up the stairs with a prostitute on their arm, he’s finally had enough.

“Oh, for pity’s sake, just ask me already,” he says, both amused and frustrated with her. She stares back at him like a deer in headlights, too prideful to outright ask him if he can help her hire a prostitute. She doesn’t _do_ that sort of thing, and—really, she just wants to talk and have dinner and maybe play some more chess with Regina. Is that so bad?

“Ask you what?” she says instead, stubborn, and he rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Fine. Play stupid. I won’t help you then.”

“You’re an ass, Neal,” she mutters, but he’s already grinning victoriously as she pushes the leftover food around her plate and says, with her head ducked, “I want to see Regina again.”

“You asked her name?” He quirks a brow. At her glare, he shrugs and continues, “Alright, alright. I will let my father know. When do you want her?”

“Tonight,” Emma says, before she can chicken out. Neal chuckles at her eagerness even as she blushes and tries to act nonchalant about it.

“Okay, Swan,” he says. “But you’re paying for her this time.”


	2. A Dark Past

That night, when Regina arrives at Emma’s room, they both share a warm smile. There are unspoken words of relief at seeing one another, words that neither of them are ready to vocalize quite yet. So they stick to the comfortable banter they had going from their previous meeting.

“I’ll hazard a guess that I’m here for another chess match?” Regina says by way of greeting, closing the door behind her.

“Nope.” Emma grins, and Regina’s heart falters for a second (whether in excitement or trepidation, she wouldn’t be able to say), until Emma adds, “I’d hope we get to play quite a few matches.”

That gets Regina to let out a soft laugh, biting her lip and going to sit across from Emma, noticing a new scar across Emma’s right forearm, where her shirt sleeves are rolled up. “I thought it was a simple patrol mission?”

“Huh?” Emma looks down at her arm and runs a hand over the wound. Then she looks back up at Regina and smiles. “Oh it’s nothing. Just some enemy scouts that thought they could get a rise out of us.”

Regina leans forward in shock, their chess board untouched. “You were ambushed?”

Emma nods. “I’ll tell you the story, if you tell me how you got that scar on your lip?”

That gets Regina to unconsciously bring her fingers to gingerly touch the skin over her lips. “It’s a long story.”

Emma shrugs, focusing on starting a new game, choosing the knight to move first. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t press. But if it’s time you’re concerned about, I believe I have all night with you.”

And something in Regina makes her trust Emma enough to open up. Even if just a tiny bit, as she moves her pawn forward a small step.

 

_“You’re a disgrace! How can you expect yourself to ever amount to anything if you insist on being such a fragile flower? You caused this, now deal with the consequences”_

_Regina cradled the lower half of her face as her split lip continued to bleed, watching as her mother paced. “I’m sorry Mother, I’ll do better —” _

_“You'd better!” Cora’s harsh words cut deep. She didn’t raise her voice to a booming thunder, but it felt just as intense. She had just messed up an important meeting with a rich dignitary that Cora had been trying to impress in order to receive riches to sustain their house. He left in disgust, promising to never return, the ample jewels he had been planning on gifting Cora long forgotten._

_For her callousness, Cora had delivered a swift backhanded slap, and Cora’s large diamond ring had scraped Regina’s soft skin. The former was currently trying to wipe the blood from the clear stone, Regina’s face a distant second to her ring._

_“I know, I’m sorry —” Regina was mentally beating herself up. He was a little bit older than Regina, and she had been charmed, unaware that he was betrothed, and took a personal offense to being flirted with. _

_“Oh stop your pathetic whimpering. I raised you better than this!” Cora flicked her wrist, and Regina winced, ready for anything, surprised when nothing immediately changed._

_Later on, Regina would find out that Cora had made it impossible for her wound to fully heal, meaning the scar would always remain. A reminder of how disappointing she was to her mother._

 

Emma furrows her brows, her eyes on the board, but her mind on Regina’s story. “Damn, she sounds like a nightmare. I hope you managed to escape from her?”

Regina nods, holding the white pawn she had captured while regaling her story. “I did, not too long after that.”

Emma looks ready to ask more questions, so Regina adds, “Now, how did you get your scar?”

As Emma begins to tell, Regina’s thoughts wander.

 

_That night, Regina decided she had had enough. She had heard tales of a dark wizard who could grant wishes. Surely some of the jewels in the house would be more than enough to pay for a wish._

_So she dressed in her riding clothes, leather pants and a loose tunic, hair tied in a braid, and snuck down to the vault in the basement of the mansion, and grabbed a pouch, stuffing as many precious stones as she could fit. She tied it on her belt, and grabbed a cloak before heading to the stables._

_As she readied her horse, she didn’t even chance a glance back. Nothing could make her stay._

_Once she was ready, she rushed away, the cool night air feeling like freedom. It was the happiest moment of Regina life._

 

Emma is deep in her story as Regina’s thoughts return to the present.

“Obviously I couldn’t do much. Neal, the idiot, decides he’s going to taunt them, even though we’re heavily outnumbered, and they attack. So I defended myself as best as I could.”

Regina clicks her tongue. “You should tell your superiors about this. They need to increase patrols in order to prevent further attacks.”

Emma raises her eyebrows, a small smile on her lips. “Someone might think you want to get rid of me, because if I’m constantly patrolling, I sure as hell won’t have time for chess matches.”

“I’m sorry,” Regina says with a sigh. “I was just speaking from a strategic point of view... advancing enemy troops would be a disaster diplomatically. We have to fortify our borders—”

“I didn’t know you were such an expert on warfare?” Emma’s surprised and mystified as to how a simple prostitute can know so much about military planning.

Regina falters. “I... I don’t. I’ve just spent many a night with people who do, and I’ve picked up a few things along the way.”

Emma nods slowly, not believing a word, but deciding to keep that to herself. It’s not her place to ask.

They continue to play well into the night, neither wanting the evening to end, but knowing they have other commitments.

“Same deal next time?” Emma asks, opening the door.

Regina nods. “I’d love that.”

Emma bites her lip. “Maybe... one day we won’t have to do this while you’re working? We can just spend some time together?”

“Perhaps,” is all Regina says as she turns around and leaves.

 

_“Rumpelstiltskin!” Regina called out once she was in the foyer of the dark wizard’s home. She had read up on how to summon him, and hoped she had pronounced his name correctly._

_A wild giggle sounded out. “Regina! I was wondering when you would come.”_

_Regina frowned, looking around the empty room. “How do you know my name? Or that I was coming here?”_

_“Come now dearie. You know who I am, my powers are unparalleled. I know everything.”_

_She was sure it was all a gimmick, from the omnipresence to the disfigured voice, but she figured she shouldn’t upset the powerful wizard that could grant her freedom from Cora. “Then you know why I’m here.”_

_“Oh yes. The little birdie wants to fly from the cage she’s meant to call a coop, and she needs a powerful wizard to help her escape her mother’s clutches. Did I miss anything?”_

_Regina had to admit he had gotten a bullseye with his description. “No. You got everything. Can you help me?”_

_“Yes.” A pair of doors at the opposite end of the room opened. “Come in to my office.”_

_Carefully, as if expecting a trap to pop up, Regina made her way to this wizard’s office. It was a lavish library, with a desk at the end, where the infamous wizard was sat. He had a long and unkempt mane of hair, but was impeccably dressed._

_“Come in, I don’t bite,” he said, his grin certainly not doing much to help his case. “Please, take a seat.”_

_“I’ll stand,” Regina politely declined, drawing the jewels she had absconded from the pouch, and spilling them over his desk top. “I hope this will be enough.”_

_The wizard’s lips twitched. “I insist, sit.”_

_Feeling that there was a deeper anger ready to escape should she insist on standing, Regina sat down on the proffered chair._

_Once she did, Rumpelstiltskin perked up immediately. “Excellent! Now, I usually don’t take jewels as payment, as you can see, I am well-off, but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”_

_“You will?” Regina could hardly believe her luck._

_“Oh yes. You are special, and I’m sure this is the beginning of a long friendship.”_

 

The next morning, Regina is in her room, braiding her long hair, when Rumple appears with a puff of dark grey smoke, arms clasped behind him.

“Knocking might be nice,” Regina bitterly says, glaring at him through the reflection in the mirror.

Rumple’s lips twitch. “I seem to vaguely recall that you belong to me, dearie. And that means that I can enter your room at any time I wish.”

Regina sighs, turning around to face him. “Very well, what do you want?”

He doesn’t answer at first, preferring to go and sit at the edge of her bed. “This girl, this... Emma.”

“What about her?” Regina asks. It’s not like she’s sneaking away to see her. She is getting paid to spend time with her. Although Regina would love to get to spend time with Emma on her own time, she knows that can never happen. She’s bound to Rumpelstiltskin’s service, and escaping isn’t an option.

“I’m a bit curious as to how you have managed to acquire such a devoted client.” When Regina still looks at him blankly, he adds, a bit curt, “You may be talented, but it’s suspicious as to how she always seems to want you. She’s monopolizing you.”

Regina’s mouth sets into a thin line. She doesn’t have much, but she’ll be damned if she’ll let Rumpelstiltskin take Emma from her. “I seem to have made an impression on her. I’m talented and I keep her entertained and satisfied. Isn’t that the entire point?”

Rumpelstiltskin's frown deepens. “That may be. But I have a faint feeling that you two spend time doing things other than sex.”

“Oh yes, you’ve caught me.” Regina pauses for a moment before adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “Sometimes, instead of fucking Emma’s brains out, she fucks mine.”

She isn’t a fan of being so crass, but she is determined to get Rumple off her back over this.

He sneers at that. “That better be all that is happening.”

“She’s paying, isn’t she?”

Rumple growls and stalks over to stand a breadth away from Regina. “You can try to continue being smart and witty, but don’t forget that I own you. And if you ever get any ideas, or do anything other than your job, I will undo our deal. I’m sure you don’t want that, do you?”

That gets Regina to take a sharp breath. “N-no.”

“Good. Now, remember that your job is to have sex with your clients. If I find out there’s anything else going on, I will make sure that you go right back into the hell that I rescued you from. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”


	3. The Princess and the Knight

_"But how is this to help me?"_

_Regina frowned, plucking at the heavily embroidered dress she'd been magicked into moments earlier. She was seated in an ornate carriage, the noble lord of some large estate seated next to her, his eyes glazed over and unfocused, while Rumple sat across from them with a reptilian smile._

_"All in good time, dearie," he said, his face shadowed as he leaned back further into his seat. The carriage rolled to a stop a short while later outside an unfamiliar castle in an unfamiliar part of the kingdom, one she'd only ever glimpsed the turrets of from far, far away, and she peered up out the small window with no lack of trepidation._

_"The King's castle?" she asked. "Why are we here?"_

_"You're welcome, princess," Rumplestiltskin said with a smug laugh, black smoke suddenly swirling around him and taking him away. Stunned, Regina stared at where he'd sat not a moment ago, frozen in indecision until the noble lord at her side suddenly sprung to life, his eyes bright and his smile blinding._

_"Come, milady," he said, offering her his arm as the driver hopped down to open the carriage door for them. "Your new life awaits."_

 

"Come on, your highness. Are we playing or not?"

Regina sighs, lingering in the doorway only a moment before giving in to Emma's teasing grin and entering the room. The knight is extra cheerful today, fiddling with a pouch on the table next to the chess board, and Regina gives it a curious look as she takes her usual seat.

"What's in the bag?" she asks when it's obvious Emma wants her to inquire. Somehow the blonde's grin only widens further, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively before she retrieves two golden-yellow fruits from within the pouch. They're nothing like anything Regina's ever seen before, round but oddly shaped like a giant bean, each one the size of Emma's entire hand.

"They're called mangoes," Emma says, already pulling the knife from her belt to cut them in half, carefully carving around the disc-shaped stone in the center to discard of. "They grow them in the far southern kingdoms, and they're very rarely exported up here. We happened upon a crate of them while taking custody of a bandit group's wagons."

She hands over two halves of a mango, coaxing them into Regina's hands before cutting open her own fruit, and Regina stares down at her halves with skepticism.

"Are you not supposed to hand over all seized items to the guard for inspection?"

"Come now, they'd never notice a handful of missing fruit," Emma laughs, licking up a trail of the sweet juice as it runs from her knife to her fingers and wrist. Brown eyes track the movement with veiled interest. "Besides, it would all end up going to the castle where only the rich can enjoy it. My platoon and I deserve a treat!"

"And you would share one of your precious mangoes with me?" Regina asks quietly, but already her mind has latched onto the thought of the castle with a kind of resigned sorrow and distant longing.

"Of course," Emma says, misunderstanding her sadness for something else, and reaches across the table to touch Regina's wrist with her own sticky fingers. "I think of you as a friend, Regina. You are more than your position."

It isn't often that a prostitute is seen as anything more than her job, and Regina appreciates the kind sentiment, even if Emma doesn't know what truly haunts her. Unsure of how to respond to the prospect of their unusual friendship, she instead lifts the fruit to take a bite, stopping only when Emma smiles and presses at her wrist to stop her.

"The skin is bitter and not very edible," she offers, quickly handing over a spoon. "But the flesh is sweet when it's ripest."

Carving out the soft yellow fruit within, Regina tries it for the first time and cannot help but close her eyes with a delighted hum as the sweet, tangy flavors burst across her tongue.

"Oh," is all she manages to say between chews, and Emma beams and watches her like a puppy happy to have pleased its owner.

"It's good, isn't it?"

"It's... quite nice," Regina relents, playing it off nonchalantly, but Emma sees right through her and makes a note of bringing Regina more of the sweet fruit in the future, even if she has to ride all the way to the southern kingdoms to get it.

 

_"My daughter?"_

_King Henry stared down at them, his warm brown eyes wide with surprise and disbelief, and Regina could only squirm beneath his gaze as the noble lord by her side bobbed his head almost frantically._

_"Indeed! It was a surprise to us all! But she just narrowly escaped the abuse of her mother Cora to request sanctuary with us, Your Majesty, and her features are so similar—"_

_"Cora?" the King interrupted, standing suddenly from his throne. "Your mother... is Cora?"_

_"I... yes," Regina said, hesitant._

_"I remembered her from all those years ago," the lord offered, cutting in. He was an old friend of Henry's, old enough to have remembered the miller's daughter Henry had been so taken with before his father before him had forced him to marry a princess from a neighboring kingdom. Cora had disappeared immediately after that, rumored to have fled in shame. Others suspected that Henry's father had sent her away, or perhaps even had her killed. No one had ever heard from her again._

_"She's alive?" Henry murmured, eyes growing distant at the reminder of what could have been. Cora had been sharp as a whip, beautiful and coy from what he recalled. He'd loved her and wanted to marry her, but his father had other plans. Plans that did not involve making a miller's daughter a Queen. How his father would rage if he were alive to see him now, Henry thought grimly; his wife dead from an illness only a few years into their marriage, never to bear him a child, while Cora had run off with his illegitimate heir._

_"Your Majesty," the lord said, clearing his throat, and Henry blinked and refocused on the young woman standing before him now, taking in her anxious and uncertain expression and the way she curled her arms around her stomach almost protectively._

_"What is your name, sweet girl?" he asked, stepping down from the dias and closer to them. Indeed, as he moved closer he could see the resemblance, the set of her jaw and the shape of her eyes. She had Cora's sharp features, but much of it was softened in his likeness, in the way her lips curved gently and her brown eyes turned warm and bright._

_"Regina, Your Majesty." She curtsied gracefully, years of Cora's strictest lessons drilled into her very bones and posture. Henry reached out with weathered hands and tipped her chin up, coaxing her to rise and stand up straight._

_"You really are my blood," he said in awe, hands settling on her shoulders as he stared at her face. "How could she have hidden you from me all these years?"_

_The answer was an ugly one. Regina's eyes lowered, threatening to turn wet as she remembered all the years of asking after her father and getting yelled at instead, of those shouts eventually turning into angry beatings. A young Regina learned to stop asking about her father after that. "She would never tell me about my father... she would beat me if I asked. She said he would take me away if he knew, that she would be left with nothing at all."_

_"I'm so sorry," he murmured, heart clenching at the thought that his beloved Cora had become an angry and cruel woman. But his daughter was here now, this bright and beautiful young woman, and he refused to waste another moment. "But you're here now, my dear. I will keep you safe from her, I promise you."_

_Startled eyes lifted, still hardly able to comprehend that this man, the_ **_king,_ ** _could be her own father. Henry's smile was warm and full of love, however, and she could not help but to shed a tear as he gently pulled her into his embrace._

_"Welcome home, daughter."_

 

"Come on, everyone has parents."

Regina blinks across the table at Emma's wheedling as the blonde finishes the last of her mango, wiping the juice from her chin with the sleeve of her tunic. The woman is frustratingly intent on learning all about her, and Regina has very few answers she can give.

"None that I wish to speak of," Regina says with a frown, setting aside the skin of her eaten mango and dropping the spoon to the table, and only then does Emma sigh and back off from that line of questioning.

"Alright, alright." She dusts her hands off, then starts setting out the chess pieces. Regina narrows her eyes.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"As you said, everyone has parents." Regina makes an impatient gesture with her hand while also claiming the first move, moving one of her pawns forward. "If you're so intent on talking, then tell me about yours."

"They're out there somewhere," Emma says with a shrug. "Never met them."

At that, brown eyes raise in surprise. "Never?"

"No. I was found in a basket at the edge of the woods." Emma gives a wry smile when Regina can't quite stifle her gasp of surprise. "The nuns always said I was lucky to have not been eaten by wolves."

 _"Nuns?"_ Regina looks her over and Emma laughs.

"I ran away when I was eight. One doesn't aspire to be a nun when they're raised by those grumpy old bats."

"Well, I should hope not, considering how much you pay for the company of a prostitute," Regina says dryly, sniffing, and Emma nearly howls in amusement at what she finds to be a _hilarious_ joke even if Regina meant it to be somewhat self deprecating. "However did you go from being raised by nuns to becoming a knight?"

"Ah, now there's a story," Emma says, leaning forward eagerly as she recounts the tale of meeting a teenage Neal in her youth, of trying to steal his coin pouch only for the older boy to laugh and outright offer to buy her a hot meal and a change of clothes that didn't have holes in them. He wasn't an orphan himself, though his father flitted in and out of his life at a whim, only ever staying long enough to provide him money and gifts. It was more than enough for a comfortable life, but Neal was never one to sit still and do nothing, and the draw of a life of adventure and heroism drew him to apply for training with the knight's guard, dragging a scrappy and curious Emma with him. Suffice to say, their friendship had started out unusual, but it was easy and natural between them, like two long lost siblings prone to getting into all manner of mischief together.

"He sounds like quite the character," Regina surmises at the end of Emma's tales, not without a hint of derision at a man who is responsible for many of the scraps Emma has gotten into throughout her life, and Emma just chuckles and waves dismissively.

"He is not so bad. He means well."

"I'm sure."

"Hey, he _is_ the reason you and I met," Emma teases in defense of her friend. Regina's sudden stiffness proves that it was the wrong thing to say.

"What do you mean?" the brunette questions, the amused smirk falling from her lips, replaced by a tightly pursed line.

"Well, his father is... err..." Emma hesitates, gesturing vaguely, uncomfortable with calling the man a prostitute owner. More specifically, _Regina's_ owner. "You know. He sent you to me."

"Your best friend Neal," Regina says slowly, cold seeping into her heart at the revelation, "is the son of Rumplestiltskin?"

Emma doesn't answer this time, eyes round and uncertain, and Regina sets her jaw. Of course. Of course the first friend she makes in a very long time is best friends with the son of the man who owns her. The man who threatens all that she holds dear if she steps a foot out of line.

"I see," she says, her expression growing shuttered again much like the very first night they'd met, and though they continue their chess game in quiet companionship, Emma senses she has made a mistake. Regina has reverted to the guarded stranger from before, and she isn't entirely certain how to atone.

 

_"All of this?"_

_Regina stared in wonder, hands gripping the rails as they stood upon the highest balcony in the tallest turret, King Henry—her_ **_father_ ** _—standing by her side._

_"All of it," he said, nodding and smiling softly at the massive expanse of kingdom around them. Of forests and mountains that spread as far as the eye could see, of towns and villages scattered all around the castle and further still. "Everything you can see is our Kingdom."_

_"It's beautiful," Regina murmured, awestruck. She did not ask for wealth or power, did not truly want it, but it was an honor that her father would so willingly share all this with her. He was a young man no longer, growing old and gray with age, and she could feel the weariness in his bones as his wrinkled hand gently clasped over hers on the railing._

_"One day, Regina, the sun will set on my time as King..." He looked out over the kingdom, brown eyes soft, much like his daughter's. Taking in a breath, he turned to smile at her. "And will rise with you as Queen."_

_"But I know nothing about being a princess, nevertheless a queen," Regina blurted out, her worries bleeding into her voice. Cora had painstakingly raised her—_ **_groomed_ ** _her—for greatness, but she had never been royalty. She was a miller's daughter clinging to a mask in a castle full of nobles._

_"Sometimes, it is those raised in the most humble of beginnings who make for the best rulers," Henry said with a knowing smile, patting her hand and leaning in to place a gentle kiss to her temple. "Those who do not want power are those best suited to handle it."_

_"You will be here to guide me?" Regina asked hesitantly, not wanting to be without his gentle wisdom and patience. Henry nodded, but did not verbally reply, instead tipping his head towards the view once more._

_"I will always be watching over you, my princess."_

_He smiled, winked, and slowly ambled away, making the long journey back down the winding staircase. Turning back to the railing, Regina watched the sun setting over the kingdom's vast forests, golds and oranges dipping into the lush green of trees and turning the world soft and fiery. Their kingdom. Her kingdom, one day, of which she would be Queen._

_If only her mother could see her now._


	4. The King is Dead - Long Live the Queen

_Blood._

_“Help!”_

_There was so much blood._

_“Help, please!”_

_Regina took in a ragged breath. The body in her arms was growing cold, and she could barely see with the tears pooling around her eyes._

_“Why?!” she hoarsely yelled at the cloaked figure across the room._

_She didn’t think the figure would stop, but they did, and a deep voice said, “Because you are nothing more than an opportunist. And it’s time the rest of the kingdom saw it. Everyone will hate you, King Slayer.”_

_Regina let out a pained yell. “My guards will find you! You will suffer for this!”_

_The figure let out a cold laugh that made Regina’s skin crawl. “They won’t. After all, who wouldn’t believe it? The King’s daughter appears out of nowhere, and not even a month later, the beloved King drops dead from a knife wound. Imagine when they find that the knife comes from a special set gifted to you?”_

_“You won’t get away with this!”_

_“I just did, Your Majesty. Long Live the Queen.”_

_And without another word, the assassin disappeared, and when the guards showed up, having heard crying and yelling, they found Regina cradling her father’s body, hands smeared with blood, a jewel-encrusted knife on the ground off to the side, once a special gift to the Princess, now dripping with blood._

 

“I’m sorry.”

Regina hasn’t even closed the door behind her completely before Emma is apologizing. She frowns. “What for?”

“For my comments last time we were together. I know that you’re closed off, I just want you to know that you can trust me... I’m your friend, and I won’t ever take advantage of you,” Emma’s standing in the middle of the room, scuffing her boot on the wooden floor, already worn from years of boots walking around.

“Emma…” Regina sighs, because Emma is just too perfect. “I know this. You are too much of a gallant knight to let me think anything else.”

It makes Emma laugh lightly, and Regina’s heart flutters. She doesn’t want to think too much about what it could mean that Emma makes her feel so light and... free.

“So, you’ll forgive me?”

Regina goes and sits at the edge of the bed, arms gripping the wood panel. “Of course. I’m sorry if I came across as rash... it’s just that, I haven’t really had a lot of opportunities in life to open up and because of that, I find it hard to know when I can do so.”

Emma goes to kneel in front of Regina, and places her hands on Regina’s knees. “You can trust me, Regina. When you feel like opening up, I’ll be here.”

And the words just seem so familiar, she just can’t place where she remembers it from.

 

_She saw the way they all stared. Heard the words they whispered behind her back, or when they thought she wasn’t listening._

_King Slayer, they called her. Looked with derision as to how she could have so quickly killed her own father, all for power._

_She was sure this was the assassin’s doing, continuing their plan to make her the pariah of the kingdom, but she had no proof. No allies._

_Regina was alone._

_A knock sounded._

_“Enter.”_

_“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I’m here with the papers you asked Graham to fetch. He got called away, so he asked me to deliver.”_

_Regina didn’t even turn around to face the knight. She didn’t want to look at another judgmental glare. She just pointed to her table. “You can leave them there.”_

_The knight deposited the papers, and Regina thought that she would soon hear the door close, but was surprised when the knight cleared her throat._

_“Do you need anything else, Your Majesty?”_

_Regina let out the faintest gasp. No one had ever stayed. Lately, everyone just wanted to get out as soon as they could. But here was this knight asking. Probably out of professional courtesy._

_“No, thank you.”_

_There was a bit of silence before, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, losing your father. He was a great King.”_

_Regina bit her lip. She still hadn’t turned around, and at this point, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to face this knight. “I appreciate your words, but I do not wish to talk about this. You may take your leave.”_

_“Well, if you do need anything, or you wish to open up, just call for me, I’ll be here.”_

_By the time Regina turned around, the knight was out the door, all she saw was a wisp of blonde hair._

 

As Regina is heading back to her room, a happy smile on her face after another night in Emma’s company, she sees Rumple stalking over to her, his face set in a deep scowl.

Regina sobers up and keeps her head low, hoping he’s just heading somewhere else, and that he’ll bypass her completely.

No such luck when he grabs Regina roughly by her left arm, and forces her to face him.

Her eyes widen in fear as her hands clench into fists, feeling a power that she had kept dormant for years bubble to the surface.

“Can I help you?” Regina coolly asks.

“I thought I had made myself clear with my orders,” Rumple mutters, eyes wild.

“And I have followed them precisely.” Regina brings her right hand on top of Rumple’s, a fire burning on her skin, making him yelp and recoil, freeing her arm. “But I don’t recall giving you permission to grab me.”

Rumple growls and moves lightning fast to push her against the wall, choking her. “Don’t test me dearie. One more smart response and I will make sure that when you go back, your life is worse than before.”

Regina chokes, trying to respond and breathe. Her hands are desperately clawing at Rumpelstiltskin’s wrist.

He lets her go, and she crumples to the ground, heaving in big gulps of air.

“You are a prostitute now. That is your life forever more. You are to have sex, not play chess and eat mangoes. You better remember that.”

“I will,” Regina breathes, pulling herself to a seating position, dread filling her as Rumple reveals his cards. He knows.

“Good. From now on, I don’t want to you to have Emma as anything other than your client for sex. Should I find otherwise, you will sorely regret it.”

Regina keeps her eyes locked on Rumple’s as she nods. “What happens if she doesn’t want to have sex with me?”

“Then you leave. She needs to understand what you’re there for.”

 

Two days later, Regina is once more called to Emma’s room at the tavern. Before she leaves, Rumple makes sure to remind her of their agreement. “Just sex.”

And when Regina closes the door behind her, she feels a pang of sadness as she sees Emma smile at her, their chess board ready. “Hey.”

Regina doesn’t return the smile, instead just walks over to the bed, and begins to undo the string around the neck of her tunic.

Emma blushes a bright red. “W-what are you... Regina!”

Regina pauses, in the middle of removing her shirt, seeing how Emma averts her eyes and puts her hand over face. “What in the world’s possessed you?”

Finally, Regina, lowers her tunic again, and says, “Did you forget what it is I do for a living?”

Emma peeks out to make sure Regina is decent, and huffs. “Of course not, but I thought you knew by now I wasn’t here for that.”

“Then what are you here for?!” Regina seethes, the words coming out harsher than intended. “You are paying me. I am paid to have sex with people, not to play chess.”

Emma lets out a soft breath, her eyes wide and betraying the hurt inside.

Regina wishes she could back off, explain to Emma, but Rumpelstiltskin is right. This is her life now, and it’s for the best. She needs to put her foot down.

“It’s simple, either you and I have sex, or I leave to find someone who does. Your choice.”

And Emma makes her choice by heading to the door and opening it. “I’m sorry Regina, I can’t.”

Without another word or glance, Regina took her leave.

When Emma closed the door, she allowed herself to sag against the wooden door, catching her breath, trying not to cry.

Little does she know, Regina is doing the exact same thing on the other side.

 

Weeks go by and Regina doesn’t hear from Emma. She does hear that the kingdom’s guards are away on another mission. Her heart pangs at the fact she wasn’t able to say goodbye to Emma nor wish her good luck and a speedy return, but then she remembers how she pushed Emma away, left her.

It’s for the best. She can’t afford to imagine another life for herself. Not when everything is in a delicate balance.

One night, Regina’s at the Drunk Frog, for once with an evening off, and she’s drinking her mead when she gets a sack of gold slammed on the table she’s sitting at.

“What the—” Regina looks up and sees Emma. She’s wearing a thick dark cloak which drapes over her body, but it’s not enough to hide that she’s slouching, and pale.

“Enough for one night?” Emma asks hoarsely.

Regina wants to ask more, but she remembers where they left things at. She glosses over the worry she’s about to voice, and just meets Emma’s eyes. “Not for a chess match, I imagine?”

Emma chuckles. “Not really in any state for that.”

And Regina takes the money and leads the way up to the rooms without another word. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t see that Emma is wincing as she walks. Regina is just mentally preparing herself.

Emma actually propositioned her for sex.

On one hand, Regina is relieved that Emma is back. She thought this would have broken the bond that she and Emma had, but at the same time, having Emma paying for sex seems like it has already changed their dynamics.

Once they’re in the room, Regina begins to undress, still refusing to look at Emma. She knows the other woman is there, but she doesn’t want to face her. And then she hears Emma sigh.

“I may have misled you on what I’m here for,” Emma says.

Regina lets her hands drop against her sides with a small slap. “Of course. You can’t just leave well enough alone, right?” Regina whips around, ready to fix Emma with a glare. “You—”

Emma has removed her cloak, revealing her bloodied tunic.

“You’re hurt!” Regina exclaims, suddenly jumping into action, only to be stopped by Emma sidestepping in front of her.

“Relax, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Emma tries, but Regina just rolls her eyes at that.

“You look like you’ve got one foot in the coffin!”

Emma winces. “You flatter me.”

“Now is not the time for jokes Emma. It’s true!” Then Regina grows even more frustrated. “And what the hell are you even doing here propositioning me? You need to see a healer! Don’t you guards have one on hand?”

Emma waves her off and sits at the edge of the bed. “I’ll be fine. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Just a bath and some bandages will be enough.”

“I beg to differ!” Regina huffs and turns around, heading to the cabinet to see if there are any supplies she can use. “I swear, are you just actively refusing to acknowledge what a prostitute actually does? Hint, we do not play chess, nor are we healers!”

When she doesn’t hear a response, she turns around, and her heart sinks when she sees that Emma’s collapsed backwards onto the bed.

She rushes to find the knight unconscious, but still breathing. She pulls Emma up to lie completely on the bed, and she lifts the tunic a bit to see the injury.

No healer will be able to treat this. It almost looks infected. She wants to smack the woman in the bed for being so foolish and careless.

Regina bites her lips, and looks down at her hands. Magic always comes at a price.


	5. King Slayer

When Emma finally awakens, the pain she expects to feel is gone. Instead, there's a warmth against her side that leaves her body tingling pleasantly, feeling strong and energetic. Groaning and stretching out her limbs with a pleasant sigh, she blinks open sleepy eyes to find a pair of brown ones staring down at her.

"R'gina?" she mumbles, rubbing at her face momentarily. A shaky exhale of relief is all that she gets before Regina is moving away from the bed to pace, and it's then that Emma jack-knifes up into a sitting position, hands clutching at her side as if only just remembering that she'd been stabbed earlier that day. A quick glance around the room tells her that it's still late at night—or perhaps early morning. The shuttered window is dark, the water basin on the bedside table is full of red, and there are dark-stained rags left in a pile on the floor. "What the... What happened?"

"What happened?" Regina whirls on her, eyes wide and angry. "You nearly died of blood loss, that's what happened! How  _ stupid _ can you be?"

"It was just a flesh wound," Emma persists feebly, wincing when Regina skewers her with a murderous glare.

"A flesh wound!" Regina nearly shrieks, throwing her hands up in exasperation before dropping them angrily to her sides, striding away again with a grunt of frustration. She's mad, beyond mad, her eyes aflame and her painted lips curled into a snarl, and Emma's never seen her like this before so she's a little bit afraid. A bit afraid and maybe a little turned on. (Can you blame her? A furious Regina is a sight to behold.)

"I'm sorry," Emma says, meek. It takes a long few minutes for Regina to calm, pacing restlessly until she finally stops at the end of the bed with a frustrated sigh, one hand pushing through her hair while she stares Emma down.

"You almost died," Regina says hoarsely, eyes gleaming. "You almost died, you  _ idiot." _

"Whoa, hey." Emma jumps out of bed, hurrying to her side in a panic when it becomes evident that Regina is nearly crying. She engulfs her in an embrace, chin resting against the top of Regina's head, and Regina allows the offer of comfort with a sniff. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

 

_ "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." _

_ It was a whisper, a hoarse appeal for forgiveness as she slumped across the head of her father's ornate coffin, cheek pressed to the cool wood as tears dripped freely from the bridge of her nose. Henry was gone, cold and dead within a gold lined coffin, and now the kingdom was impatiently—and reluctantly—waiting to crown her as their new Queen in lieu of his murder at the hands of an assassin. _

_ That's what she'd told them, anyway. But the assassin had been long gone when soldiers finally burst into King Henry's rooms to respond to her screams for help, only to find the King bled to death in his estranged daughter's arms. The daughter he'd reunited with and announced as his heir only a few short weeks prior. _

_ She was the obvious suspect. She was the perfect scapegoat. And she couldn't bring herself to care about any of it because her father was  _ **_dead_ ** _ and she was alone in the world again. _

_ "Your Highness, it's time," a voice said from behind her, and she turned with a choked sob to find her father's most trusted knight captain standing there, eying her mistrustfully, his helmet under one arm and the other hand resting on his sword. _

_ "I don't want this, Graham," she pleaded, a teary cry for help from a man Henry spoke highly of. Graham had been kind to her before Henry's murder, but now he looked upon her with thinly veiled hatred. Why wouldn't he? He, like the rest of the kingdom, suspected her of usurping her own father through blood and death. _

_ "They're waiting," he said blankly, his eyes giving nothing away, and he turned on his heels and led the way without another word, ignoring the way Regina struggled to compose herself and hide the evidence of her tears. He didn't know how to feel, wasn't sure if her tears were genuine or if she was faking it all, and he wished fervently that he had someone to lash out at in his anger at failing his King. Instead, he's babysitting a young woman who may or may not have committed treason. _

_ "Please," Regina whispered from behind him, her voice shaky as they neared the throne room. Dozens and dozens of citizens were in attendance, the room crowded with nobles and commoners alike, all ready to judge their new Queen as if they might ascertain her guilt from looks alone, and Regina looked desolate. "Please, Graham, I didn't... I couldn't..." _

_ "Take your place," he said coldly, stepping aside and settling into his spot off to the side. Helpless, Regina forced her feet to take her up the dias, standing unsteadily before her father's throne as his council stood before her, Henry's crown in their hands. _

_ "Your Majesty," they said, motioning, and Regina lowered her head, barely able to breathe through the tightness in her chest and the ringing in her ears.  _

_ "All hail the new Queen," they chanted as the weight of the crown settled upon her head. Regina straightened, breathless and dizzy and terrified, and turned around to face the sea of cold, angry faces. They hated her, believing her to have killed King Henry. _

_ She hated herself, believing his death to have been her fault. _

_ "Long may she reign." _

 

It isn't until after Regina's eyes have dried and she's moved away, flushed with shame and embarrassment, that Emma finally realizes something.

"My wound," she says, hands pressing flat to her side, fingers pushing past the bloodstained slit in her tunic to find the flesh underneath smooth and pain-free. The gash had been substantial despite her attempts to brush it off as nothing but a simple cut, and now her fingers press against the flesh there to find not even a bruise beneath the skin. "You... Did you...?"

"I did nothing," Regina says sharply, already drawing herself up defensively. "I called for a healer. They tended to your wounds."

"This isn't the work of a simple healer." Emma frowns, glancing about the room and then peering out the window to the streets below. Everything is as it was just hours ago. It's still the same day as when she'd stumbled in here to meet Regina earlier, and the brunette's defensive attitude certainly isn't helping her case. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Just what are you insinuating, Knight Swan?" Regina glares from a corner of the room like a trapped animal, arms tightly crossed and her expression pinched, and Emma can only stare at her in wonder.

"It  _ was _ you," Emma insists, reaching out. Regina pulls away, but not quickly enough. Emma's fingers brush her elbow and something sparks between them, Regina's magic jumping to the surface as if beckoned by the soul it had healed not moments ago. Regina hisses, jerking away, but it's too late and Emma's eyes are bright with amazement. "You healed me with magic."

"I didn't—"

"I won't tell anyone," Emma says quickly, hands thrown up in surrender. Magic users are a rarity, admired by some but feared by others, and most are recluses for a reason. "That's incredible. You saved my life."

"Stop saying that," Regina snaps. Emma hesitates, brow furrowing in genuine confusion.

"Hey, I promise I won't tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me, alright?"

Still, Regina stares at her, afraid to show even a modicum of trust, and Emma's shoulders slump as she gives the other woman a plaintive look.

"You're my friend, I promise I won't tell." Still, green eyes scrunch in confusion. "But, Regina—you can  _ heal. _ That is a powerful gift. If you have magic like that, why are you a prostitute?"

_ Why stay in a life that you hate? _ is the unsaid sentence, but Regina's eyes are hard and her lips are pressed into a pale line when she turns her head away and stares distantly into the shadows.

"All magic comes with a price," she murmurs, chest aching with the reminder of what she'd left behind.

 

_ King Slayer. _

_ The words were scrawled across the parchment in stark red ink, staring up accusingly at her. Her fingers trembled as she gripped it tightly in her hands, but she managed to stave off the worst of it when the main entrance door of her suites creaked open and Graham stepped in, helmet under his arm and back straight at attention. _

_ "You asked for me, Your Majesty," he said, curt and professional. Her head whipped up to look at him, eyes wide and upset. _

_ "Who sent this?" she demanded, shaking the parchment in the air. He barely looked at it. _

_ "I couldn't say, Your Majesty." _

_ "You can't, or you won't?" _

_ His eyes bore into hers, cold and without sympathy. "I have no idea who sent it," he said blankly. "It could be any number of angry citizens in the entire kingdom. King Henry was beloved by all." _

_ His expression gave nothing away, and Regina wanted to cry and scream at the unfairness of it all, that she would lose the only person who showed her love and kindness and then be blamed for his murder. _

_ "Leave me." She turned away, heartbroken, crushing the parchment up between her hands and throwing it angrily into the fireplace. Graham departed without a word, the door thudding shut behind him, and Regina sunk to the fur carpet, staring forlornly into the flames as despair sat heavy on her shoulders. _

_ "I didn't mean to cause your death," she whispered, frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as the assassin's words echoed in her mind again. "I'm so sorry, Father." _

 

"Who did this to you?"

Emma's question has Regina stopping in her tracks, panic flitting through brown eyes before her expression closes off and is replaced with an angry snarl.

"My life is none of your business. I  _ choose _ to stay here."

"Not willingly," Emma surmises, watching the way Regina flinches tellingly. "Please don't lie to me, Regina. You are so clever, so sharp and intelligent. You could not possibly  _ want _ to live this life. Who has forced you into this?"

"I think our time is up." Standing abruptly, Regina moves for the door, bristling when Emma's hand closes around her wrist and tugs her back. The blonde is firm but gentle, nothing but genuine concern in her eyes, and Regina wishes she could afford to appreciate it, but she  _ can't. _ Too much is at risk. "Let go of me."

"Regina, please, I can help you!" Emma insists, searching her eyes for something, anything. She needs only a request, even a nod, and she would willingly go to the ends of the earth and back to help Regina escape whatever situation it is that she feels trapped in. It is not so simple a task, though, not when magic and its consequences are involved, and Regina rips herself free with an angry curl of her lips.

"I don't need you to save me!" she snarls, glaring into those beautiful green eyes with as much anger as she can muster. But it's not enough, not when Emma has somehow slipped her way beneath all her defences after months of chess games and long talks over dinner and small, lingering touches that mean more than any other physical contact she has received all her life, not when Emma can see the helpless desire for help, for  _ comfort _ in those deep brown depths. Breathing hard and trembling with adrenaline, Regina whirls around and storms from the room without another word, leaving Emma staring after her.

"Maybe not," Emma murmurs to the empty room at length, quickly grabbing her gear and strapping her sword back to her belt on her way out of the tavern and into the night, determination etched into her features. "But I will help you save yourself."


	6. Let Them Burn

_“Did you hear about the village that was destroyed?”_

_“Aye, seems our Queen was feeling murderous.”_

_“When is she not? I mean, you heard about Kenny, right? Entire family sent to the dungeons.”_

_Regina tried to block it out, but it was increasingly impossible to do so._

_It had started small. Someone claimed that she had thrown a ball of fire at a guard’s face._

_She told Graham to tell his men to stop spreading ridiculous lies about her, and despite making a face that implied he’d rather eat horse shit, he did as asked and passed along the message._

_But it didn’t take long for people to twist her message into thinking that she was trying to cover up her dark deeds. A fireball turned into a burnt down forest, a man brought in for questioning turned into an entire family slaughtered, and a village visit turned into a massacre._

_The worst part? The events were real._

_She just wasn’t the one responsible for them._

_But no matter how she tried to cry her innocence, everyone believed her to be lying._

_She was done being a passive character in these stories._

_So she squared her shoulders, made sure her heels were clacking loudly, and rounded the corner, lighting up a fireball and curling her lips into a snarl._

_“And if you two don’t stop gossiping, I will make sure your families suffer a worse fate, and you both are strung by your toes in the village square, am I clear?”_

_“Yes, your Majesty!”_

_“Please forgive us!”_

_The guards paled and rushed to return to their posts near the wall in front of an ornate tapestry, armour clanking loudly._

_If there was one thing her mother taught her well, was to adapt, no matter the situation. And that’s exactly what she was doing._

_She had half a thought to extinguish the fireball in her hand, having proved her point, but her mother’s voice echoed another morsel of wisdom, “If anyone perceives you as weak, they will never respect you.”_

_So she lobbied the fireball and threw it at the tapestry, burning the fabric to a crisp and singing the guards in the process._

_They were exclaiming in pain and surprise, but she didn’t care, she just cackled and kept walking._

_Served them right._

 

Emma keeps looking at her chest, where the wound had been. The skin is fully healed, and the sharp stab of pain is completely gone.

It’s like she’d never been injured in the first place.

And it worries her. How can a powerful witch such as Regina be hiding behind this farce of a disguise as a prostitute? Surely someone is holding her hostage. She’s implied as much.

But who?

Her first instinct is Rumpelstiltskin, and she decides to ask Neal. After all, he would know best after the man himself.

“Blackmailing?” Neal splutters, nearly spitting the swig of beer he had been drinking. “My old man is many things but…”

Emma looks expectant, thinking Neal will deny it, but he stays silent. “Second thoughts?”

Neal groans and nearly lowers his head to touch the table before letting out a sigh and lifting his head again. “Look, my father’s no saint. He has blood on his hands, that much I know. But it’s dangerous to poke around for that kind of information. Why are you asking anyway?”

“Just things I’ve overheard,” Emma shrugs off.

“From that woman you’ve been hiring?” Neal frowns.

“No!” Emma is quick to deny. The last thing she needs is for Regina to get in trouble for her nosing around. “No, just rumor mills. Wasn’t sure if there was any truth to them.”

Neal thankfully believes her. “Wouldn’t know. He never really brought me in to that part of his life. Probably doesn’t want one of the King’s knights to be privy of his misdeeds.”

Emma laughs and leaves it at that. She’ll find another source. “I do have one favour to ask of you…”

 

The hut looks decrepit, like it could topple over at any moment and crumble. Emma checks the parchment paper again to make sure she has the right place.

There’s nothing indicating otherwise, so Emma heads up to the entrance and knocks on the door.

After a few moments of silence, the door swings open to show a woman sporting a long forest green dress with wild auburn hair and a wide grin that could almost be described as wicked.

“Well hello there!” For a witch, she really didn’t fit the idea Emma had formed of them.

“Hi... I need your help,” Emma says slowly, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Ah yes! Come in, come in.” The witch beckons Emma to follow her, humming along a melody. “So what exactly do you need help with?”

Emma doesn’t answer at first, overwhelmed with taking in this hut. It’s much larger from the inside, and there’s a cacophony of sounds and mountains of objects all around. It takes Emma a while to remember she was asked a question. “Ahh, I need help to figure out a problem. Someone is blackmailing a... friend of mine, and I need to know how, why, and how I can get her out of it.”

The witch lets out a laugh. “Quite a lofty favour to ask! First, some tea.”

Emma follows along to an old and ratty wooden stool. In the blink of an eye the furniture transforms into a plump and new mauve armchair. Beside it, the block of wood transforms into an ornate low table. “Whoa.”

“Impressed? It’s a trick I use... keeps thieves from wanting to spirit things away. Now, come, take a seat.” The witch transforms another stool into an armchair, this one green.

Soon after Emma takes her seat, a tea set sprouts on top of the table.

“How do you like your tea?” the witch asks, pouring some tea into a pair of cups.

Emma smiles sheepishly. “I don’t really drink tea.”

“Balderdash!” the witch exclaims, holding out a cup of tea. “Now, drink.”

Not having much of a choice, Emma takes the cup and takes a sip. “Not bad.”

The witch preens. “Now, let’s get to your favour.”

“Right, I need help to get someone out of a blackmailing situation,” Emma says, twirling the cup slowly.

“Yes, you mentioned,” the witch says. “Now tell me the real story.”

Emma splutters. “W-what do you mean?”

“Let’s start over again. I am Zelena, and you are?”

“Uh… Emma.” Emma blinks.

The witch, Zelena, rolls her eyes. “You are aware you are sitting across from a witch, yes?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You also realize that I have powers, and could see more than what you’re letting on?”

“Well yes…”

“So why do you think you can lie to me? There’s more to this story, so tell me. It’s the only way I’ll help you,” Zelena states, and it doesn’t leave Emma much choice.

So she confides in Zelena and tells her everything. Of Regina, of her growing feelings for the other woman, for the vague statements Regina’s given, and ultimately of Regina’s magic and how she’s fairly certain that Regina’s a prostitute because she’s being blackmailed.

“And you believe that this Rumple is doing the blackmailing?” Zelena asks once Emma is done. Their tea has long finished, and now they’re just lounging around, with Zelena having lit the fireplace a few minutes ago.

“Yes.”

Zelena sits up and picks at an invisible strand on her dress. “Well you would likely be right... he’s a nasty man, and if she’s involved in his side business…”

Emma does a double-take. “Side business?”

“Well yes, she’s his prostitute, right?”

“Right,” Emma feels like she’s missing something.

Zelena rolls her eyes. “The prostitute business is not his main thing. His shtick is favours.”

“Like you?” Emma asks.

“Ehh, he’s obviously much more well-known. I am alas a second choice. For those people that can’t pay his prices. Not exactly the ideal situation, but I can’t compete with his reach.”

Emma’s stomach sinks. “Favours. Maybe Regina asked him for a favour and this was his price?”

Zelena lets out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, hardly. If there’s one thing that old fart is good for, is double-crossing. He always wins. He can give you everything your pretty little heart dreamt of, and for a ridiculously low price, but soon enough, you’ll find yourself begging to undo it, and he will, provided you pay the real price.”

Emma gulps. “So why do people still go for him?”

“Why does anyone do foolish things?” Zelena ruefully riposts.

“Fair enough,” Emma responds, before taking a few moments to think. And then she asks, “Is there any way for you to help me find a way to free her?”

Zelena clasps her hands together gleefully. “Oh of course! For a price, of course.”

And Emma knows after all that they just spoke about, that she should be more cautious, but it’s Regina. “Name your price. I’ll pay it.”

Zelena thinks for a moment. “A lock of your hair.”

Emma blinks. “That’s it?”

“If you’d rather pay more I’m sure I can arrange for something else…” Zelena chuckles as she lets the sentence trail off.

Deciding to take this at face value, Emma doesn’t waste time before she grabs the knife stowed in her right boot and lops off a fistful of her luscious blonde hair and holds it out for Zelena.

Zelena’s watching, mortified. “You needn’t be so dramatic! I only need a tenth of that!”

Still, Emma doesn’t rescind. “For whatever all of that’s worth.”

“Honestly,” Zelena huffs, taking the hair with her left hand, and in her right palm, a medallion appears.

Emma takes the medallion and stares at the engraving. “Is this a joke?”

Zelena gives Emma a look. “For this hairball? Certainly not.”

Emma holds the medallion up. “This is the kingdom’s crest. I know because I’m a knight here. So why would I need a medallion for it?”

“Honestly. It’s not the symbol on it. It’s what the medallion _symbolizes_.” When Emma still looks lost, Zelena adds, “Are you that dense? Think about who could have made that. Who could possibly have made a medallion with the kingdom’s crest?”

“The king?” Emma asks, aghast. “How can the king help?”

And Zelena merely shrugs. “Gotta leave some mystery, don’t I?”

After Emma leaves, Zelena looks back at the chunk of hair, chuckles and says to no one in particular, “A fool in love will do the craziest things.”

 

_“Am I doing the right thing?” Regina asked, staring at her father’s tombstone. Then she mentally smacked herself._

_Of course he wouldn’t approve._

_“It’s just that... they all think I’m this Evil Queen. They’ve actually started calling me that, you know? And I’ve embraced it. I know you wouldn’t like seeing the monster I’ve become but... Cora was right. I’m a monster. It’s high time everyone saw it too.”_

_She kissed the tips of her fingers and then touched the tombstone. “I am sorry.”_

_As soon as the graveyard gates closed behind her, a murderous glint appeared in her eyes as she lit up fireballs on both of her hands, lips widening into a grin that would bestow fear into anyone that crossed her path. She was done playing their game._

_“Let them burn.”_


	7. No Good Deed

_ The Kingdom suffered under her reign. _

_ "You want an Evil Queen?" she'd snarled, all venom and pain and vindictiveness, and she'd allowed the darkness in, felt the power thrum through her veins and curl protectively around her like a comforting cloak, unleashing her worst upon the Kingdom that hated her and wanted to make her the villain in the first place. "Here I am." _

_ And they feared her. The girl who looked so afraid, so alone, so heartbroken - now a vindictive Queen who ruled with an iron fist, who sent people to their deaths without a second thought, who pulsed with dark magic that none could have ever imagined her possessing. _

_ "You're a monster," Graham had said, his face twisted with rage when he'd seen her ripping the heart out of one of his soldiers' chests. She'd cradled the heart in her hands, holding it up to the light to admire the way it pulsed and glowed a bright red. _

_ "Am I?" she asked, distant and distracted. "And whose fault is that?" _

_ And then she'd crushed it, letting it crumble to dust between her fingers as the soldier dropped dead, and Graham had cried out in agony at the loss of his friend. _

_ "Phillip!" He fell to his knees with a choked sob, grabbing helplessly at Phillip's chestplate as if he might wake the man from simple slumber, but Phillip's head lolled to one side and his half-open eyes remained blank. "No!" _

_ "I warned you," Regina said lowly, shadows licking at her back as she took slow, measured steps towards where he crouched over his friend's body. "I warned you all about disobeying me. You brought this on yourselves." _

_ "You told us to slaughter innocents!" Graham shouted up at her, agonized. "You ordered the death of an entire village!" _

_ "They deserved it," Regina snarled, but in truth she couldn't even remember why she'd sent his men after them anymore. There had been so many people who spat hate at her, so many villages who renounced her as Queen, so many neighboring kingdoms who threatened to take her throne by force. They all wanted her dead, and thus everyone was her enemy. _

_ Including Graham, as his hand tightened on the sword handle by his hip. She raised her hand, taking a step towards him with a death sentence on the tip of her tongue, when one of his knights suddenly leapt between them with a strangled “Stop!” _

_ "No!" Graham screamed, leaping to his feet, but it was too late; his fellow knight was flung through the air, slamming into the stone wall with a sick thud and crashing to the ground, unmoving. _

_ The rest of Graham's platoon howled in outrage and rushed the Queen, swords drawn. _

_ "No! Stop!" Graham lunged, grabbing his men in a desperate attempt to save them. They were flung around by the Queen's magic, like rag dolls blown in the wind, and he managed only to throw one of his men towards the door before his feet were taken out from under him and he slammed to the ground in a daze. _

_ "I never wanted any of this!" Regina snarled, dark magic pooling out from her like a plague, snatching up the knights and smashing them into the ground, their armor crumpling with every strike. “You never believed me!” _

_ Graham rolled, kicked, and thrashed against it to no avail. Twisting himself around as he was lifted midair, he saw one of his men scrambling back against the wall. _

_ "Neal! Run!" he shouted, moments before the darkness seized his throat and had him choking for air. Terrified, Neal sprung from his place and crashed through the throne room doors, sprinting for his life down the hallway and sobbing as the agonized screams of his dying friends came to an abrupt end. _

_ "Run like the coward you are!" Regina shouted after him, throwing out her arms in a fit and sending every vase and table and decoration in the room flying through the air, crashing against the walls. Porcelain and wood shattered across the marble floor, covering the strewn bodies of her most recent victims, and she made a sound akin to a wounded animal, her wild magic swirling violently as a wave of her hand covered every window in heavy drapes and vanished the bodies scattered around her. _

_ The castle became a place of shadows, not even an inch of sunlight allowed within, and the sullen guards and servants remaining trudged through the torch-lit halls, following out the cruel demands of their Queen while their hearts were locked away within her vault, beating out a sorrowful rhythm. _

_ Henry's Kingdom became a dark and lifeless husk of what it once was, well and truly destroyed by the heartless Evil Queen, and at the far edge of the Kingdom, Cora laughed vindictively and thrived on the knowledge that she'd broken her traitor of a daughter. _

 

The castle is as bright and lively as she'd last seen it, and Emma feels optimism bouncing in her veins as she's ushered through the main gates by guards she remembers training with so many years ago. Phillip accompanies her today, as he has errands of his own to run in the castle—mainly to glimpse the visiting princess Aurora from their neighboring kingdom, and Emma takes a moment to tease him about it as per usual—and they walk together for most of the journey until parting ways at the entrance to the throne room.

"I wish to speak with His Majesty," Emma says when asked by the guards there, and one of them disappears into the room to confer while Emma waits with the other.

"Official business?" he inquires, making polite conversation as they wait. Emma pulls her helmet off and shakes out her blonde ponytail, tucking the helmet under an arm with a wry smile.

"I have a... mission, of sorts. I'm hoping he can provide some insight."

He nods, but has no chance to ask more questions when the door swings open and the other guard ushers her through. Within, Emma's captain looks to have just finished a conversation with the King, and he pauses as they pass each in the middle of the room.

"Swan," Graham says, smiling and tipping his head, and Emma does a quick salute and grins. Graham is not the most sociable of people, but he's loyal and protective of those he cares about, and he's always had her back like something of an older brother. "Good morning. What brings you here on your day off?"

"Just returning an item of note to the King," Emma says, vaguely patting the pouch attached to her belt, and Graham nods and doesn't press further, trusting her as he would any of his personally selected platoon.

"I see. Good day, then." They tap each other on the shoulder, Graham striding from the room as Emma steps up to the edge of the dais and drops into a bow.

"Your Majesty," she greets, straightening up when King Henry chuckles and beckons her closer.

"Knight Swan. You're looking well. What brings you here today?"

He is a kind man, thoughtful and protective of his people, always ensuring that his citizens are taken care of and that his kingdom is thriving. Emma respects him and trusts him greatly, and she does not hesitate when she takes the medallion from her pouch and offers it to him.

"I have been investigating a personal matter of sorts, and this medallion was given to me as an answer. It has your crest, Your Majesty, but it is a medallion unlike any I have ever seen. I was hoping you might recognize it."

Indeed, Henry's eyes grow wide and stunned when he takes the item into his hands, cradling it as if it were something precious. Stroking a fingertip along the engraving, his voice is far away when he asks, "Where did you get this?"

"A, err... well, a witch, Your Majesty. She magicked it to me."

His eyes snap up to hers, startled, before he finally sits back with a sigh and runs a hand through the side of his gray hair, knocking his crown askew.

"This medallion," he says softly, still toying with it in his hands, "was a custom made gift I gave to a woman from a long time ago. I loved her, but she was a miller's daughter, you see, and it was not to be. My father married me off to royalty, and she disappeared from my life forever."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Emma says, brow scrunching. Henry shrugs, shaking it off and then meeting her eyes again, the medallion finally firmly clasped in his hand.

"What were you asking the witch about, for her to have given you this medallion?"

"I met a young woman," Emma starts, which gets a knowing chuckle out of the old King. He smiles, quirking a brow at her, and she struggles not to blush like a teenager. "She's trapped in a life she does not want, and I wished to discover who is blackmailing her so that I may help."

 

_ The castle was silent. The few guards and servants who were forced to work there made very little sound, their presence almost invisible. It had been what Regina had demanded of them, not wanting to see their blank faces or deal with their company, but what started as chosen exile became a painful sort of hollowness as the weeks turned to months and the months turned to years. _

_ The Kingdom was miserable, the castle was in ruins, and her days knew nothing but anger and darkness and the stench of people's fear everywhere she went. The alternative was to lock herself up in her castle and see no one at all, but the silence threatened to turn her mad—or more mad than she already was, anyway, and she wanted to laugh at how pathetic that was. _

_ "It doesn't have to be like this, you know." _

_ Roused from her brooding thoughts, Regina twisted around in her vanity chair to find the source of the intruder's voice. For a moment she saw nothing at all except for the pale moonlight coming in from the balcony, but then a glimmer of green caught her eye and she lifted her gaze to find a small fairy hovering there, dust falling from her translucent green wings. _

_ "Who invited you into my castle, moth?" Regina sneered, rising in one smooth motion to face her intruder. She'd never met a fairy before, but she knew what she was looking at. She'd wished upon the stars every night as a child, begging the fairies to take her away from her mother's abuse. Every wish had gone unanswered; what fairy would pay attention to a simple miller's daughter? _

_ "My name is Tinkerbell," the green fairy said, daring to hover closer. "I have seen your plight, and I wish to help you." _

_ "My plight?  _ **_My_ ** _ plight?" Regina laughed, a sharp bark of a laugh that was coated in bitterness and anger. "I was a child who was beaten by her mother every day and spent every night begging the stars for rescue. Where were you then? Are you here only because I am royalty now? Or perhaps you're here because I am a plight on every other child in this kingdom. Is that it? Are you here to nullify the Evil Queen?" _

_ "No!" The fairy looked mortified. "I shouldn't even be here at all. Only those chosen by Blue are given a wish by a fairy godmother. But I have watched you through the years, Regina, and it was not fair that your plight was ignored. I am sorry about that, and I want to make things right." _

_ "Make things right," Regina repeated slowly, mockingly. "I'm afraid you're a little too late." _

_ "It's never too late," Tinkerbell insisted. "I have fairy dust with me, and it can lead you to your soulmate." _

_ "Whyever would I want to find a soulmate?" _

_ "Because love is the most powerful magic of all!" Tinkerbell fluttered more excitedly, leaving a trail of glitter in her wake. "Love can help you find the goodness in your heart, Regina—" _

_ She was cut off by Regina's laughter, harsh and mocking, a dangerous amount of teeth showing between blood red lips. _

_ "Love!" she trilled, her rude amusement offending the green fairy. "I was loved, and he was murdered for it. My own father, killed for naming me his heir. I don't need a soulmate. I need revenge. I need to find out which kingdom ordered his assassination so that I can burn them to the ground." _

_ "Revenge is not the answer," Tinkerbell said, growing pale with fear as the woman she'd come to help grew agitated. There was a wildness in her eyes that frightened even the fairy. Before she could react, Regina had suddenly reached out and snatched her out of the air, holding her in a tight vice that had Tinkerbell wheezing for air. _

_ "Revenge is all I have left," Regina hissed, holding her so close that Tinkerbell could see the hollowness in her eyes, once a warm brown, now cold and empty. For a moment the fairy thought this was it; she was going to die here, crushed in the Evil Queen's hands. But then Regina's fingers opened, letting Tinkerbell drop to the floor, and the Queen turned away as Tinkerbell scrambled up and fluttered weakly into the air. _

_ "Fly away, moth," the Queen murmured, sounding more tired than anything. She sat down gingerly in front of her vanity again, her form hidden by shadows, and Tinkerbell launched herself out of the balcony and fled, grateful to have escaped with her life. _

 

"Emma?"

Neal blinks at her, and Regina wants to slap that stupid look off his oddly-familiar face. But he's Emma's friend, and more importantly he's Rumplestiltskin's  _ son, _ and she is not going to do anything to risk drawing the wrath of the man who owns her life.

"Yes, Emma. She is your best friend, isn't she?" she persists, annoyed, and Neal only nods, looking confused. "Do you know where she is or not?"

"Uh, she ran off on some sort of personal mission, I believe. She didn't say. Why do you ask after her?"

Groaning, Regina grits her teeth and considers walking away, but spotting Neal in the tavern was a stroke of luck and she certainly can't  _ leave _ to go find Emma herself, no matter how much she wants to apologize to the woman for her outburst. Emma had been so genuinely concerned about her well being, and she didn't deserve the way Regina had harshly snapped at her.

"I... She left something of hers behind the last time I saw her, I just wanted to return it," she lies, and she scowls at the way his face immediately lights up in recognition.

"Oh! You must be the woman she keeps paying for. Regina, right?"

Taking a deep breath to avoid punching him outright, Regina nods wordlessly.

"Well, I'm not sure when she'll be back, but she did want me to drop something off for you at the establishment. Here, just a moment..." 

_ Emma, you idiot, _ Regina thinks with an exasperated sigh as he digs into his pack. It's a good thing Neal  _ hadn't _ dropped off something at the establishment with her name on it—Rumplestiltskin would kill her. Prostitutes didn't receive  _ gifts. _

"Here it is," he says, handing over a heavy pouch, and Regina peers inside to discover two more plump, ripe mangoes within, her taste-buds automatically salivating at the sight.

_ You sweet, lovable idiot, _ her mind amends with fond exasperation, closing up the pouch and holding it close as Neal gives her a curious look.

"Did you need me to return something to her?" he asks, referring to her previous lie, and Regina quickly shakes her head.

"No, no. That's fine. Just tell her to come see me again as soon as she's back?"

He smirks, thinking of far less appropriate things, and Regina scowls and rolls her eyes when he bobs his head and agrees with a wink. Turning without another word, she retreats to her room at Rumplestiltskin's establishment, careful not to be seen by anyone on her way back. Safely hidden away in the meager privacy of her own room, she glances into the pouch again and can't help but smile at the gift.

"Come back soon, Emma," she whispers, sighing softly and wondering when she will get to see her knight again.


	8. The Rise and Fall of the Evil Queen

_She was alone._

_All of the staff had either been murdered or they had fled in the dark of night._

_She looked down at her hands, and they trembled. So much blood had pooled in her palms. So many atrocious acts of violence committed in the name of vengeance and spite._

_She’d had enough._

_“Rumpelstiltskin!” she called out. In the silence, her beckon echoed, and it made her shudder._

_“My, my, quite the predicament we have here, your Majesty.” Rumple’s voice made Regina snarl, and she felt her hand prepare a fireball as she whipped around to where he was sitting on her bed._

_“Predicament? You think this is a joke? I feel like I’m going mad... and I just want it all to end.” Regina’s voice trailed off by the end, she was defeated by her own shame. She became all that her mother had said she was, and she hated it._

_“End? You could renounce the throne, I’m sure the people will be ecstatic.” Rumpelstiltskin’s grin was positively evil. He was enjoying this too much._

_Regina shook her head. “No... I’d be shunned for the rest of my life. Can’t you do something? You got me into this—”_

_“And what?” Rumpelstiltskin’s demeanor changed instantly, his brows furrowed, and his lips curled into a snarl. “Now I’m expected to clean up after her Majesty? You’re going to have to try a little bit harder than that dearie.”_

_Tears had begun to fall from Regina’s eyes. “Please. I’m desperate here. I just need to get away from this. I don’t want to be the queen anymore. I just want for everyone to forget about this, for everything to go back as it was.”_

_“Everything?” Rumple repeated, raising an eyebrow. At Regina’s confusion, he added, “You’d go back to your mother?”_

_Regina cringed. But then she took a deep breath and said, “If that’s the price, I’ll pay it.”_

_Rumple giggled. “Oh no, the price is very different. Let’s say that I’m feeling generous.”_

_“What—?”_

_Getting up, Rumpelstiltskin began to pace. “Suppose I have a way to turn the clock if you will. Everything will go back to the way it was before that fateful carriage ride. The kingdom’s flourishing, populated, the kingdom’s guard are in their prime, and most importantly, father dearest is still alive. Would you take it?”_

_“Yes!” Regina was ready to hug the man. Life began to crawl back into her eyes, and a smile crept into her face. “I don’t care for the price. I’ll pay it. Just make it happen.”_

_“It’s simple really. You’d have to serve me. In return, no one will know of the Evil Queen. It’ll be like she never existed. You and I will remember this timeline, but for everyone else, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”_

_In hindsight, Regina should have thought more about this highly generous offer, but at the moment, she just wanted to get away. So she agreed to it._

_Then, her world went black._

 

Emma’s nursing a tankard of beer when she connects the dots.

The mysterious medallion, given long ago to a miller’s daughter. Regina, a powerful witch in her own right, trapped as a prostitute due to some favour that she had asked from Rumpelstiltskin and then undid it.

Unless... could the King have fathered a child with the miller’s daughter, which would make Regina…

“Gods, she’s a princess,” Emma breathes.

Should she tell the King? No. Surely Regina has a reason for hiding as she is. If she’s being held against her will, it’d be wise to not to anything without asking her first.

Regina had made it quite clear she didn’t want Emma snooping around. Going behind her back seems like a recipe to have Regina hate her for the rest of their lives.

And Emma was head over heels for Regina. She just wanted to see the woman she has fallen for be happy. So she finishes her beer, and decides she’ll head to the establishment, and talk to Regina.

On the way, an elderly woman with wispy gray hair nearly crashes into her. “Oh thank gods! You must help me!”

Being a knight, Emma often has to help the people with their problems. This old woman seems to be desperate for help, so Emma nods and says, “Of course, lead the way.”

The old woman is surprisingly fast, bunching up her dress and rushing off, and Emma follows her pace, growing increasingly suspicious as they head deeper into the maze of alleys and dark corners of the village.

“Excuse me, where are we going?” Emma asks.

Just then, the old lady trips and falls.

Emma gasps and rushes to help the woman. The old lady moves as if to grab onto Emma’s shoulder, but her hand bypasses, and heads straight into her chest.

“AH!” Emma gasps, grunting in pain as the woman’s hand closes around her heart, and yanks it out.

Emma tumbles backwards as she clutches her chest, feeling the emptiness there, her breathing labored. She looks up as the old lady transforms into a slightly younger, but still mature, woman, her features somewhat familiar. “What... what are you doing?”

“Don’t take this personally, my dear knight, but I cannot have you telling my daughter the truth.”

“You... you’re the miller’s daughter!” For her effort, Emma’s heart gets a slight squeeze, which makes her wince and hiss with pain.

“Now, now, I believe that is Lady Cora to you. I have advanced a lot since old King Henry saw me, and I don’t appreciate being mistreated as a commoner.” Cora sniffs, examining Emma’s heart.

Emma grits her teeth as she tries to use the wall she has backed into to help her back up. “So what did you do? Make your daughter’s life miserable?”

Cora lets out a scathing life. “Miserable? I trained and molded her to be the perfect future queen. And she was so close. But then she had to undo her wish.”

“Wish?”

And so Cora briefly explains. “Yes, my daughter didn’t realize that I had planned it all out. Get Rumpelstiltskin to grant her wish of ‘freedom’, thereby placing her strategically in the castle. When I had that old fart Henry killed _—_ ”

“What?!” Emma splutters. “The King is alive!”

Cora grins. “Now. But in the original timeline, he is dead, as is half of the kingdom. Because of my daughter and her glorious rise to power. But I don’t have time to explain the rise and fall of the Evil Queen…” Emma frowns at the moniker. “I have things that you need to do.”

“And what makes you think I’ll do anything for you?” Emma demands, ready to fight her way out.

But Cora finds everything highly entertaining. “Oh my, you really don’t know what I’ve done, do you?”

Next thing Emma knows, she has punched herself in the stomach with such an intensity that she doubles over in pain. She gasps and looks up at Cora, who is holding her heart with a triumphant smirk.

“While I have this, I can make you do and say anything I want, and that’s exactly what I’m going to make you do. You’re going to visit my daughter, as you had originally intended, except, instead of being on some gallant expedition to save my daughter, you are going to bring her back towards her destiny, that of the Evil Queen. I have taken the opportunity earlier to forge a note asking Regina to meet you at the tavern, so go on then. You have the once and future Queen to meet.”

Emma watches with a growing nausea as she begins to walk of her own accord, wishing she could fight it. But it’s of no use.

She’s being led to the tavern, and as her voice asks for Regina, she’s now desperately hoping that Regina isn’t there.

But she is, and despite everything, she still takes Emma’s breath away. But her face remains impassive as she asks, “Can we talk, in private?”

Regina nods, her face betraying the slightest smiles at the sight of Emma. She eagerly invites Emma to the room she has rented. When she had received the note from Emma, she didn’t waste a second rushing to the tavern, ready to accept Emma’s proposal. She deserved to be free, and if Emma was offering, Regina would be remiss to let it go to waste.

“Emma, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, and _—_ ”

“Stop.”

Regina does, confused. “Emma? Everything okay?”

“No. I just learnt some very disturbing things,” Emma hears herself say.

“What do you mean?” Regina asks.

“See, I went to find out how I could rescue you from this, and then I found out how you had wound up here, _your Majesty_.”

The title, combined with Emma’s scorn, makes Regina wince. “Emma, I was going to tell you _—_ ”

Emma lets out a mirthless laugh. “No you weren’t. And I can see why not, after all, you weren’t honestly expecting me to stay and fight for you once I found out the truth, were you?”

Regina feels her heart break with each word coming out of Emma’s mouth.

Meanwhile, Emma is internally screaming as she sees Regina’s eyes pool with tears, unknowing that the words that were cutting her so deep weren’t Emma’s.

“Emma, please _—_ ”

“No. You’re a monster. You didn’t honestly think that I would actually fall for the Evil Queen, did you?”


	9. Checkmate

_When she awakened, she assumed he'd simply rewound time and took her back to before she'd met her father, before his assassination, and before she'd become the Evil Queen._

_He'd taken them back to where it all began, yes, but Regina was also in a small room she didn't recognize, wearing nothing but a robe and with no idea how she'd gotten there._

_Outside, henchmen lingered in the halls, their gazes crude and disrespectful as she clutched her robes tightly shut and braved stepping out into the hall._

_"Where's Rumplestiltskin?" she demanded, forcing herself to remain calm. They jerked a thumb down the hall to the biggest door and she all but stormed in, angry and confused at her whereabouts. "What have you done?"_

_"I did exactly what I said I would," he replied smugly, sitting behind his desk with his fingers steepled together. "I erased the life you no longer wanted. Everything is as it was, King Henry lives, and the Evil Queen never existed."_

_"What am I doing_ **_here_** _?" she sneered, anger coiling hot and familiar in her stomach, her magic rising to the surface and turning her hand warm with fire. Rumplestiltskin clicked his tongue in disapproval and with a wave of his own hand, her magic was forced back down, her energy sapped away and leaving her trembling with rage._

_"Why, this is your payment, dearie." He smiled a crocodile smile, gold tooth gleaming in a row of yellowed teeth, and Regina felt realization hitting her like a bucket of ice cold water, a shiver running down her spine as the robe did little to shield her from the cool temperature. "In exchange for all that I've done for you, you are to serve me for the rest of your life."_

_"This— this isn't what I agreed to!" Regina paled, sick at the thought of touching him. As if sensing her thoughts, Rumplestiltskin barked out a cruel, mocking laugh._

_"Fear not, dearie, I don't want you any more than you want me." Her relief lasted but only a second, however, as he continued cheerily, "You now work as one of my prostitutes for hire."_

_"How dare you—!"_

_"Ah ah ah," he tisked, waving a finger at her. "You should've read the fine print before signing the contract. Now what's done is done. If you want this new life to stick, including Henry's continued survival, you will be a good girl and play the role you've been cast in."_

_Going rigid with surprise, Regina gaped for a moment before her features contorted with hatred. He'd conned her. And now she had no choice but to do as he asked, or he would send them back into the timeline where Henry was dead and she was the Evil Queen._

_And no matter how disgusted she was at the idea of being a prostitute for hire, she could not do that to Henry. He deserved to live his days in peace, not to be assassinated and have his kingdom brought to ruin by a vengeful daughter._

_"I won't forget this," she growled threateningly, but it mattered very little. Rumplestiltskin knew he'd won. The defeated slump of her shoulders said as much._

_"Go on then," he crooned, gleefully waving a hand for her to leave his office. "You have clients to please."_

_Her stomach threatening to upheave, Regina left the room and slammed the door shut behind her, one last act of rebellion before she resigned herself to her new life._

 

"This isn't you, Emma."

Her voice wavers, though, uncertain and terrified, and Emma's expression twists into something mocking and cruel.

"Isn't it?" Emma sneers. "You hardly even know me aside from what I've let you see."

"That's not true. It took me a while to accept, but I... I _know_ you. The real you."

"You know nothing, King Slayer." Emma leans in, eyes blazing, and Regina is trapped in her gaze, unable to tear her eyes away. “Evil Queen."

A choked sob pulls its way up from Regina's throat, tears clouding her eyes as she flinches as though she's been slapped. Victorious, Emma turns on her heels and strides from the room, the door slamming shut behind her and leaving Regina alone in the small tavern room.

Her knees give out first. She sinks to the floor, hot tears dripping freely down her cheeks as _King Slayer_ and _Evil Queen_ echoes in her mind, a vicious accusation. It's not true, not really, not anymore when King Henry is alive again and blissfully unaware that he'd been murdered in a previous timeline, but she still remembers the feeling of having warm, sticky blood all over her hands, and feeling his body growing cold and stiff in her arms, and seeing all those accusing eyes glaring at her as if they _knew._ The guilt had driven her mad, made her rage against all the wrong people, and she'd killed so many and ruined an entire kingdom in her blind suffering.

Emma isn't wrong.

 

_“Cora!!”_

Emma's feet lead her far from the tavern and far from Regina, but she has regained control of her traitorous mouth, at least, and she isn't shy about spitting curses and vitriol as her puppeteer sends her on a long walk into the woods and away from town. She has no idea where she's going, but soon enough she comes upon a small cottage hidden out in the middle of nowhere, rustic and looking abandoned.

The ache in her chest, of long, bony fingers squeezing her heart, tell her otherwise.

“Come out, you coward!” Emma snarls, even as her feet come to a casual stop in front of the entrance door. It swings open to reveal Cora's reptilian smile, one hand resting on the door handle while the other cradles a beating heart.

“Well done, dear,” the woman croons, stepping aside and beckoning her in. Entering the cottage, Emma finds it to be surprisingly warm inside, a fire burning in the hearth and drinks set out on the table. Her body moves on autopilot, taking a seat in one of the two chairs while Cora sits across from her.

“Are you happy?” Emma spits, disgust screwing up her features even as Cora laughs in delight.

“Oh, I'm ecstatic, my sweet knight. You've done exactly what I needed you to do.”

“She won't become your Evil Queen again,” Emma says with certainty. “She wouldn’t do all those terrible things now. She couldn’t. I _know_ her.”

“You know nothing,” Cora sneers, leaning forward to pour a finger of amber liquid into both cups from a decanter. “You don't even remember the other timeline. The monster she became, the atrocities she's committed… She did it all out of pain, and because of _you,_ she'll do it again.”

“I don't believe you.”

Cora grabs her glass and motions for Emma to do the same, clinking their drinks together in a mock salute as Emma purses her lips and tries to set her cup back down to little avail. For all she knew, it could be poisoned.

“No?” Cora pauses before her lips touch the rim of her cup, her eyes narrowed into slits as she grins. “How forgiving would you be to learn that you died in the other timeline? That she used her magic to throw you against a wall and snapped your pretty little neck?”

_“Stop!”_

_"No!" Graham screamed, leaping to his feet, but it was too late; Emma felt herself flying through the air, slamming hard into the stone wall with a sick thud and crashing painfully to the ground. Shock ran through her like lightning and she couldn't move, couldn't even feel her body anymore, just fell limp and unmoving, eyes still wide open in fear; not for herself, but for Graham's life, and for the broken Queen who had felt so alone and betrayed and hurt that she would lash out at anyone and everyone like a wounded, dying animal._

_A breath escaped her parted lips, her ponytail coming undone beneath her helm and slowly pooling down around her head, hiding her face from the chaos around her. The cries of her brethren came to an abrupt stop, and the Queen screamed out in rage before she, too, fell silent._

_A lone tear escaped dull green eyes, rolling down a pale cheek and dripping to the floor beneath her face. The world grew dark, her vision fading quickly, and the last thing she heard was the Queen's choked sob before the light left her eyes and she exhaled her last breath._

“Gods,” Emma whispers, a shudder running through her body as the memory of her own death echoes loud and clear in her mind. Cora lifts her cup in a salute before drinking, and Emma doesn't require any prompting to down her own drink, wincing as the whiskey burns all the way down her throat and lands hot in her gut. She wants to vomit seconds later, saved from the indignity when Cora curls her lip in disgust and whispers a quiet command to the heart still beating in her other hand.

“No need to waste good whiskey,” she scoffs, watching as Emma slumps back in her chair with mild relief, “even if I do need to dispose of you later.”

Emma stiffens, the weight of her impending death crashing down on her shoulders. Was this it? Was she to be used to destroy the woman she loved and then left to die in a ditch?

“Go to hell,” she growls, fear tinging her voice despite her attempts to sound vindictive.

Cora chuckles, lips parting, more mocking words ready to come forth, but her magic tugs in warning and her eyes cut to the window in surprise for a moment before she stands quickly, hands clapping together. “It seems like you'll get one final curtain call after all. Good day, knight Swan. It was a pleasure knowing you.”

 

No.

Emma wasn't _wrong,_ but she wasn't _right,_ either. The look in her eyes had been tortured, ashamed, maybe even mortified despite the ugly sneer on her lips and the cruel words spewing from her mouth. It's not the woman Regina has somehow irrevocably fallen in love with these past months. She can't believe that Emma would say any of that to her and mean it.

She _won't._

It's insane, certifiably _insane_ of her when she gathers her magic to herself for the first time in years, but Emma has somehow slipped beneath all her walls these past many months and she won't let her just _leave_ after spewing vitriol without any explanation.

It's not hard to sense Emma and follow after her, not when she'd healed her wounds and tugged her soul back when Emma had nearly bled to death in her arms. It's like reaching out for a friend and feeling the familiar warmth of their hand clasping onto yours. Regina latches on and lets herself be pulled, feels her magic swirling around herself and spiriting her away. She lands in the woods, her attire transformed into something more suitable for the outdoors; tan, fitted riding pants and a soft tunic and coat, more clothes than she's had the luxury of wearing in a long time.

An old cottage sits abandoned, covered in so much ivy and moss that it nearly blends in with the woods. Emma's soul cries out for hers from within, desperate and hurt and sad, and Regina calls forth a protective fireball and momentarily relishes in the warmth against her palm _—_ _hello old friend,_ she thinks _—_ before storming the cottage without hesitation.

“Emma!” she calls out, ready to be a hero for once, ready to rescue the woman she loves, so _sure_ that Emma must be possessed by dark magic because there's _no way—_

“King Slayer,” Emma greets coolly from where she's seated by the fire, languishing in her chair, one leg crossed over the other and a cup of whiskey in hand. “Come back for more of the cold, hard truth?”

“No,” Regina says, eyes still scanning the dimly lit interior with suspicion, but there's no one else to be seen. “No. This isn't you, Emma, I know it isn't. Someone's controlling you, aren't they? I can help you. I can _—_ ”

“I don't need your _help,”_ Emma scoffs, lips curled into a sneer. “You're nothing more than an opportunist. Go back to your kingdom and leave me out of it. I don't feel like getting my neck snapped in this timeline.”

“I… what?” There's something in Emma's words that sounds oddly familiar, but more shocking is the casual mention of her death. Or rather, one of the Evil Queen's preferred methods of killing. “What are you _—_?”

“Oh, you didn't know, did you?” Emma mocks. Within, she screams with regret, but no matter how hard she struggles, her lips still deliver the killing blow. “That knight that you flung across the throne room, right before you killed Graham? That was me. You threw me so hard against the wall that I broke my neck and spine.”

Regina stumbles, staggering backwards against a wall. She remembers, can recall that exact day with painful clarity, and the sickening _crack_ of a broken body hitting the wall _—_ no longer another innocent, faceless victim of her wrath, but _Emma,_ her sweet, silly, loyal Emma _—_ immediately makes her ill.

Emma sips her whiskey and regards her with a cold glare, even as her eyes gleam with sudden wetness.

“So weak,” Emma says with a sigh and a disappointed click of her tongue. “How do you expect anyone to respect you when you are so easily hurt by something as pathetic as _love?”_

It almost cuts her to her core. Almost. But the words are too familiar, too scarring, and brown eyes that were previously hurt and pleading now burn with a renewed kind of anger as all the puzzle pieces finally come together in her mind. The assassin and Emma both, parroting the cruel and manipulative words of her mother.

 _“Cora!”_  Regina snarls, the relief of knowing Emma isn't herself right now overpowered by her rage at a ghost she'd hoped to never deal with again. Emma pauses, expression pinched and lips pursed, her hand jerkily setting her cup down on the table as if she were struggling to control her own body.

“What are you _—_ ”

“Enough of your games, Mother,” Regina interrupts, turning away from Emma and throwing out her hands, taking Cora by surprise when her magic crashes into the darkest corner of the room and forcibly drags the woman out into view, ripping away her concealment magic with all the gentleness of a predator tearing into its prey. Cora shouts, her own magic quickly fighting back, and she scrambles to her feet with a vicious sneer, holding up Emma's heart like a shield when Regina summons another fireball to her hand.

“Not so fast, dear,” Cora warns, giving the heart a tight squeeze. Emma cries out, clutching at her chest and hunching forward in her seat, and the fireball in Regina's hand dies immediately. “Look at you. Pathetic. Cowed by a single threat to this woman's life.”

“It was you,” Regina says, angry and appalled at herself for never realizing, never _thinking_ that Cora would have actually gone to such lengths to ruin her. “You were behind all of this?”

“Well who else would push you to greatness?” Her mother scoffs, absently squeezing the heart again. Emma actually slumps from the chair and onto the ground, curling up into a ball as she moans with muffled pain. “You were too soft. Too weak. Someone had to give you the push you needed to become a Queen the people could respect.”

“They feared me. They _hated_ me. All because of you!”

“I did it for your own good,” Cora says, smiling sweetly. “Love is weakness, Regina.”

 _“No.”_ Two sets of dark eyes turn, finding Emma where she kneels hunched on the floor. She clutches her chest, panting hard from the painful vice around her heart, but her eyes are blazing as she stares up at them. “Love is _strength,_ and I love you, Regina. You can be a good Queen. I believe that. I believe _you.”_

Green eyes meet Regina's, bright and hopeful and affectionate, and Regina feels her magic surging forward protectively towards this woman who trusts her so freely, so easily. Someone who finally believes her.

“That's enough out of you,” Cora sneers, her fingers tightening around the heart in her hands, ready to turn it to dust. Regina acts on instinct, hands thrown forward as she rushes her mother. There's a blast of light, of magic a vibrant violet rather than an inky black, and Cora crashes backwards onto the table as Regina catches Emma's heart before it can fall to the ground.

“Emma,” she whispers, immediately dropping to her knees next to Emma's curled form, one hand cradling the heart protectively against her chest while the other touches the blonde's shoulder. Emma groans, blowing out a shaky breath as she lifts her head and gives a faint smile.

“Hey,” is all she says, slowly uncurling herself with a look of utter relief now that her heart isn't being crushed. Instead, the bright red organ beats harder in Regina's palm, thudding a warm and excited beat.

 _“Emma.”_ It's a breathy sigh, a silent declaration of love. She lurches forward to hug Emma tightly, careful not to squish her heart, their cheeks pressed together as Emma's arms gently curl around her body and hold her close. A clatter of wood and a pained moan have them both sitting back and glancing over to where Cora lays in the broken rubble of the table, unconscious and battered. Brought back to the issue at hand, Regina cradles Emma's heart carefully and gives the woman in question an apologetic look.

“I can put it back, but… it might hurt. I'm sorry.”

“I trust you,” Emma says simply.

Regina's taken plenty of hearts in the past, but she’s never _returned_ one before, especially not one that pulses with love and familiarity. She cannot help but press a soft kiss to the beating heart before holding it against Emma's chest and gently pushing it back where it belongs. Emma gasps, but it's not out of pain, her green eyes turning warm and melty and her lips pulling into a lopsided smile. She holds onto Regina's wrist once her hand is out of her chest and simply resting against her collarbone, leaning forward to bump their foreheads together in a moment of quiet.

“That didn't hurt at all,” Emma murmurs, smiling. Her expression grows serious when she notices the guilt brewing in those beautiful brown eyes. “Regina, I _know_ you. I understand who you used to be, and I know who you are now. Don't trap yourself in the past when we have our whole futures ahead of us.”

“I killed you,” Regina whispers, hoarse and distraught. “I killed you, and I never even knew.”

“And then you brought me back to life, you brought all of us back to life, at the cost of your own.”

Regina wants to kiss her. Wants to melt into her arms and kiss her and spend the rest of her life making it up to Emma. But then her eyes grow wide with realization and fear replaces the tentative hope that Emma had given her, fear for Emma and for her father and for every innocent soul she'd murdered in the original timeline.

“What is it?” Emma asks, hands rubbing soothingly at Regina's arms. Regina's reply is faint, everyone's lives suddenly hanging over her head and with no idea how to save them.

“Rumplestiltskin.”


	10. Timeless

“What about him?” Emma asks, feeling her breath reach a regular rhythm once again now that her heart is back in its place.

“He’s probably noticed I’ve escaped by now, and I can’t let him undo this spell. I can’t lose—” Regina can’t even bring herself to say the words.

But Emma understands. Now that she knows the whole story, she knows what Regina stands to lose. Where she will end up if Rumple undoes the spell.

“So what can we do?” Emma asks.

Regina looks helpless. “I don’t know if we can do anything.”

Emma shakes her head. “I refuse to believe that. There must be some way to appeal to him. Surely he’s not such an asshole as to deny this for you.”

“You have clearly never met him,” Regina snorts. "The man will never think about anyone else but himself.”

“Maybe not, but there is an exception to that.”

Without further ado, Emma grabs Regina’s hand, and rushes to find the one person who can help them.

 

“You’re mad,” Neal says once Emma explains the plan to him.

“Maybe, but you’re the only person who could possibly get through to him,” Emma says with a shrug.

For her part, Regina is surprised. She’d never have thought that Neal would be good for anything. But she’s got to hand it to Emma.

Neal sighs. “Alright, let’s do this.”

And the three of them head to the establishment, and ask to speak to Rumpelstiltskin.

He welcomes them with a grin that is entirely too wide and doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, isn’t this an interesting group. I have to say I am amused. Not surprised, but amused.”

Emma grits her teeth. “Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t have thought that a noble knight and a supposedly redeeming Evil Queen would try to use my son in order to get their way.”

“Evil Queen?” Neal asks, turning to Emma and Regina, and the former just shushes him as an answer.

“Nonetheless,” Rumple continues, templing his fingers. “I am not about to make an exception, no matter who it is you’ve brought here to sway me.”

Neal frowns. “Come on! They are clearly made for each other. You can’t possibly be so selfish as to keep them apart.”

Rumpelstiltskin is uninterested in his son’s pleas. “You are meddling in things you don’t know about! This woman nearly killed you!”

And then the pieces connect for Emma. “This is about revenge. You’re getting revenge on Regina for almost killing Neal by making her be your prostitute!”

At that, he just shrugs. “All magic comes at a price. Using magic to nearly kill my son comes with a very steep price. This woman is a monster.”

Regina’s lips curl in a snarl. “You are the monster here. I refuse to work for you any longer.”

At that, Rumple’s face twitches, and he raises his right hand, fingers curling as if he’s holding an invisible orb, and he begins to squeeze.

All around them, the air changes. It’s cool and dark now, and each passing second makes it worse.

Emma gasps as she begins to feel her throat constricting, and an unbearable pain climb up her spine.

“Emma!” Regina cries, going up to the other woman and clutching her shoulders, wondering what she can do. She turns to Rumple and savagely mutters, “Stop this, you coward!”

“No can do, dearie. A deal is a deal.”

Hearing those words prompt Regina to light up a fireball and throw it at his head. He easily deflects it, continuing his slow crushing of this invisible orb. “You can’t possibly defeat me.”

Emma, gasping and cringing, wildly grabs at the hilt of her sword and whips it out, not wasting a second before she rushes him.

She actually catches him by surprise, and Emma manages to run the sword through his shoulder, shoving him until the sword hits the wall.

The impact manages to stop the progression of the inclement weather, but it’s not long before Rumple makes the sword disintegrate.

Emma stumbles backwards and gasps as he rolls his shoulder and the blood stops soaking his dark coat.

“A valiant effort, but you can’t escape your fate.”

He once again begins to squeeze the invisible orb, quicker now, until his hand becomes a fist, making Emma drop to her knees in pain, and Regina to rush back to be beside Emma.

And then a sword is trained on Rumple’s throat, making him stop.

“Neal—” Rumple whimpers.

“You are threatening the life of my fellow knight. And the oath I took to protect my team goes beyond our blood. So cease this right now,” Neal thunders, his hand resolute, his eyes trained on his father’s.

He shakes his head. “I can’t stop this now. It’s too late.”

Hearing that makes Regina let out a gasp. She’s now holding Emma close to her, the latter with her eyes closed in pain, twisting and grunting.

“Emma—” Regina is crying. “Please don’t leave me.”

Emma takes a deep breath and cracks open her eyes just long enough to look at Regina and to bring one of her hands to clasp Regina’s. “I love you Regina. I wish we had—”

“No, you idiot, don’t finish that sentence,” Regina chides, her voice breaking. “I’ll find a way to stop this. I won’t lose you. I love you too. So much.”

Suddenly, it’s as if time has come to a stand-still, the air feels different, and none of them can figure out what’s happening.

Regina looks around to see if Rumple has done anything, but he is still being held by his son’s sword, and Neal is also looking around confused.

Even Emma blinks as the pain dissipates, and she sits up, her hand still holding on to Regina’s.

The door swings open, and a pair of women walk in.

Emma and Regina each recognize one, and as it dawns on them, they chorus, “You!”

Standing one beside the other are none other than Zelena and Tinkerbell, both a vision in green.

“It was about time you two admitted your feelings to one another,” Zelena says as she takes a look at the room.

“What’s going on?” Neal asks, now truly puzzled.

Rumple hisses. “Two meddling nuisances.”

Tink hums. “Nuisances perhaps, but we have the power to stop you.”

Rumple lets out a mirthless giggle. “No you don’t. You’ve never had that power. Stopping time as you did won’t change anything. Time has to continue, and when it does,” he points to Emma, “she will be dead, and she,” his hand moves to Regina, “will go back to her destiny as the most feared Queen the Kingdoms have ever seen.”

“No.”

Everyone turns to look at Regina. She gives Emma’s shoulder a soft squeeze to make sure she will be fine. When Emma gives a small nod, Regina stands up, her entire being showing her regal and refined aura, demonstrating that at one point, she had been a queen.

“I am done being a pawn; I am done with destinies and the idea that my life is mapped out somewhere. I make my own path, and I will live my life with Emma by my side one way or another, and no one will stop it. Especially not a spineless imp.”

The ferocity in her words make Neal take a step back in shock.

Rumple naively figures he's in the clear, but this time he does not see the fireball that Regina lobbies at him at full speed as he massages his throat.

It hits him squarely in the face and he screams in pain before Regina flicks her wrist and knocks him out, putting out the fireball in the same move.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Emma says with a wry smile, her hand still on her chest.

Neal lets out a nervous chuckle in agreement.

Regina looks remorseful as she says to Neal, “I promise he will be fine. A bit battered and with some burns, but he will live.”

Neal shrugs. “In my opinion, you didn’t do enough.”

Emma then looks back to the duo who are still standing by the doorway. “So what brought you down here?”

Zelena shrugs. “I love a good fight.”

Tink smacks Zelena’s arm and rolls her eyes. “Honestly. We are here to fix everything.”

Neal shakes his head. “How do you two fit in exactly?”

Regina gestures to Tink. “You were there to tell me about my soulmate. You wanted me to go with you to find the love of my life.”

Tink nods. “Yes. I was going to offer you the opportunity to turn back the clock in order to have a second chance. But alas, you took his offer instead.”

Regina opens and closes her mouth in shock.

Emma nods to Zelena, “And you gave me the medallion that allowed me to connect the dots and figure out the truth about Regina.”

Zelena preens. “Indeed.”

Neal still looks confused. “Okay but how can you two stop my father’s spell?”

Zelena holds out a bottle. “True love.”

Regina does a double take. “You can bottle love?”

“In a way,” Tink adds. “The truest love exists in every fibre of two soulmates’ being. You can take any part of them and it will make for a potent potion.”

“Yes, you can use fingernails, scabs—” Zelena begins to prattle off, only to get a sharp jab in her side courtesy of Tink.

“Or the harmless option - a lock of hair.”

And then it dawns on Emma as she brings a hand up to where she had chopped off some of her hair. “That’s why you asked for my hair.”

Zelena rolls her eyes and then glares pointedly at Emma, “A lock, yes, not a hairball that could make any cat jealous.”

Tink clears her throat. “Anyway. We just need a lock of Regina’s hair to complete the potion and make everything right again.”

Regina gladly gives a lock of her hair to the two women, the realization of what it means that both of them were true loves being held for another time.

Now, Regina just helps Emma to stand up as Tink deposits the hair into the vial, and Zelena gives it a nice swirl before whispering a few foreign words.

The bottle glows a mixture of purple and yellow, and then lets out a bright pulse of light.

Time begins to move again, and the air is once again warm and light, no longer holding the promise of bleak times, but rather of a bright future.

Regina chances a glance at Rumple. “He won’t... come back to undo this, will he?”

Zelena doesn't answer, but rather walks up to Rumpelstiltskin and brings out a box. She activates it and it begins to suck a dark cloud from his entire being. Once it's done, it clicks, and Zelena magicks it away. “There. He is powerless and unable to ever meddle in your life again.”

Both women breathe a sigh of relief, and waste no time in turning to one another and hugging the other tightly. It's as if the rest of the world doesn't exist, it's just the two of them right then.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Regina whispers.

“Never. I’ll always be here for you Regina,” Emma responds just as softly.

Regina moves her head back and moves her hands to cup Emma’s cheeks and delivers a searing kiss that leaves both of them breathless.

Once they part, they rest their foreheads against one another. Regina is content, convinced that this is where she is meant to be, with Emma at her side, her lovable idiot.

“Now, I believe I have to escort you back to the palace, your Majesty.”

And Regina lets out a rich laugh that makes Emma grin. She is certain that she will spend the rest of her life wanting to hear that laugh.

 

The castle is quiet and peaceful at night, with only the soft clank of armor as the occasional guard walks by, or the soft murmurings and giggles of the staff as they tiptoe through the halls for their midnight rendezvous’. Regina is warm and happy from wine and a good meal, her arm tucked into her father’s as Henry leads them on a languid stroll. They’d spent quite some time sitting and talking in the gardens after dinner and now their cheeks flush with the warmth of the castle as they make their way down the west wing.

“I must have talked your ear off by now, Regina,” he chuckles, eyes twinkling with amusement as they come upon the door to her suites. “I will let you rest; you’ve had an eventful few days.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Father.” The title is still new and unfamiliar on her tongue, but it warms her heart in a way that calling Cora “Mother” never did. Henry smiles at her, a soft and genuine smile, and gently cups her face between his weathered hands, leaning in to press a kiss on her forehead.

“I am so glad you found me,” he whispers, the damp gleam in his eyes evident when he leans back. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

They finally part ways after a quick hug, Henry toddling off down the hall and Regina slipping into her rooms. It’s dim within, a small fire left burning in the hearth, and she takes her time undressing, choosing only a scant night robe to wear over her bare body, the tie somewhat loose so that the front falls open enough to tease the strip of flesh between her breasts.

It’s a beautiful night out, and she admires the wide expanse of courtyards below, the way the moonlight leaves it awash in a pale blue light. A soft knock on the door has her moving away from the windows, perching herself on the edge of her bed and crossing one long leg over the other.

“Come in,” she orders, lips twitching into a smile as a familiar figure slips into the room, the door shutting with a thud behind them. Her visitor stops at the sight of her with a sharp intake of breath, then slowly proceeds forward, stopping just a short distance away to bow at the waist, long blonde hair spilling over shoulders.

“You asked for me, your Highness?” the knight says, straightening up, green eyes glinting in the dark. Regina rises smoothly, encroaching on the knight’s personal space until their chests are almost brushing, Regina’s hand against her own chest, fingers teasing at the fabric of her robes like she might open it up and bare herself to greedy green eyes. It all feels familiar, an odd sense of deja vu from the first night they ever met, Regina in a robe ready to undress for a client, but this time her eyes are warm with trust and affection and Emma's desire for her comes from a place of love that only grows stronger with each passing day.

“I want something from you, Knight Swan,” Regina purrs, leaning dangerously close, her lips grazing the edge of Emma’s jaw and smirking as the blonde’s breath falters.

“Anything,” Emma says, her voice hoarse. Regina peers up innocently at her through her lashes, lips hovering against lips, when— 

“Play with me.”

Regina leans back, her thumb pointing over her shoulder at something, and Emma reluctantly drags her gaze away to look across the room and find—

A chessboard.

“Regina!” she squawks in dismay, and Regina bursts out in delighted laughter, curling into Emma’s arms even as her entire body shakes with her amusement.

“I’m sorry, darling, but you should have seen the look on your face.”

“You are so mean to me,” Emma pouts, jutting her lower lip out dramatically even as she relishes in the warm pressure of Regina’s body against hers, happy to hold the other woman tightly in her arms. “And here I thought—”

But she is silenced at the press of lips against her own, Regina’s hands cupping her face oh so gently and drawing her closer, fingers sliding into her hair and scratching softly at her scalp. She can only release a sigh of pleasure, melting in place as the princess claims her mouth quite thoroughly until both are breaking apart with gasps for air.

“Hi,” Emma whispers in a daze, forehead and nose pressed to Regina’s, her fingers gently digging into the soft, warm flesh of Regina’s back through her thin robes. Regina smiles, those dark brown eyes glittering, and wraps her arms up around Emma’s neck and shoulders, holding her close in an intimate embrace.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs, less of a command and more a request.

Green eyes are bright with love.

“Always.”


End file.
